


Predatory Instincts

by RoksanaLyasin



Category: Jurassic Park (1993), Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic Park III (2001), Jurassic Park Original Trilogy (Movies), Jurassic World (2015), Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997)
Genre: Academia, Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adult Content, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alpha Owen Grady, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Animal Attack, Attempted Seduction, Attraction, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward Tension, BAMF Owen Grady, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Co-workers, Communication Failure, Danger, Desire, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Difficult Decisions, Dinosaurs, Dirty Thoughts, Drama, Drama & Romance, E-mail, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Romance, Exes, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Harvard University, Heavy Angst, I'm Going to Hell, InGen - Freeform, Isla Sorna, Islands, Jealous Owen, Jurassic World Spoilers, Lack of Communication, Major Original Character(s), Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Opposites Attract, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Post-Jurassic World, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Problems, Professors, Protective Owen, Protectiveness, Raptors, Research, Romance, Rough Kissing, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Strong Female Characters, Stubble Burn, Studying, Touch-Starved, University, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Velociraptors, Work In Progress, Workplace, Workplace Relationship, barry is a good friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoksanaLyasin/pseuds/RoksanaLyasin
Summary: Elizaveta's life is dedicated to her research, her lifelong passion for studying predatory dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes. Now, as the Head of International Palaeontological Research at Harvard, she believes she has reached the pinnacle of her career and is content to spend her life helping her students and colleagues excel in their field. Palaeontology, however, isn't ready to let her settle. Though she's been historically critical ofInGen, their offer is too good to pass up; new research opportunities are rare, particularly ones that allow her to study prehistoric creatures in the flesh, fully funded.Owen never thought he'd step foot on a Jurassic island again in his life. After the devastating incident on Isla Nublar, he figured that was the end ofInGenfor good, but from the ashes of their failures, the company has risen again to find a new purpose. Instinct tells him he should be wary, yet the adventurous spirit in him rebels whenInGen's new CEOs come bearing an enticing job offer. Simply accompany a headstrong, attractive Harvard Professor on research expeditions to Isla Sorna, providing support inwhateverform she requires.Why couldn't it have been that simple?





	1. The Logical Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArtzGromet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtzGromet/gifts).



> This fanfiction story may be tagged as a work in progress but please don't let that deter you. Although I do not currently have the ability to update at regular intervals due to time constraints, I never start publishing a story I can't/won't finish, and I can promise that this story is planned from start to finish. I'll be updating tags as I publish.
> 
> I can't wait to share it all with you. I really hope you enjoy _Predatory Instincts_.
> 
> Edit: you may notice that this story is tagged as a 'slow burn'. When I say slow burn, I mean _slow_ burn. There's going to be a lot of angst, misunderstanding, and longing on both sides as they circle each other. You've been warned ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...The invitation ignited a thrill of adventure in her veins – as desperate and heady as the first time she’d been offered the chance to get into the field in the second year of her Bachelor – but at the same time, her mind grew wary. She’d heard the stories first hand from Dr Grant and Dr Malcolm over the years, had lived the terror of their encounters on Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna vicariously through their cautionary tales. Though her nightmares were haunted by other monsters, she felt the prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck, the icy shiver that danced on her spine at the thought of facing the animals she studied in the flesh..._

 

* * *

 **Chapter One  
** The Logical Mind

 _Ping_.

The sound reverberated through the room, a noise so high-pitched and metallic that even the piles of books and paperwork that surrounded the moderately sized office and lined the walls could not effectively deaden the ear piercing screech.

Elizaveta refused to glance at the dual screens beside her. She’d muted notifications for general Harvard news and FYIs long ago, receiving more each week than she could count. This _ping_ was yet another in the relentless onslaught of emails she received daily from students, prospective interns, and fellow colleagues. Though often marked as high priority, everyone in the department knew that she dealt with emails only in the afternoon, after she’d finished more pressing tasks; she would attend to them at the allotted time in her schedule, as she always did.

She adjusted her grasp on her pen, scribbling a few more notes before the next ping could derail her train of thought, again reminding herself to take a moment to mute her computer. With a final flourish on the page she dropped the pen before she could get distracted again, looking up at the screen, intent on silencing the high-pitched _ping_ , _ping_ , _ping_ of the default – and, frustratingly – sole notification sound available in the university’s system, a sound that had grated her nerves since she’d first heard it years ago at the beginning of her doctorate. As she floated the mouse pointer over to the sound controls, her eyes caught on the name in the sender line. Sitting at the top of the list of unread messages from formulaic university email addresses, the name stuck out as if scrawled across the screen in red pen.

_Alexis Murphy._

Elizaveta tapped her fingers on the table, nails clicking on the smoothly varnished hardwood. She’d heard that name before, she knew. Curiosity quickly got the best of her as she stared at the name and she pushed her notes aside, clicking to open the email. She scanned the first few lines, one sharply groomed dark eyebrow rising.

> _Dear Professor Volkov,_
> 
> _Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alexis Murphy. You are likely familiar with my grandfather, John Hammond, though I do not expect you to be so with myself. Until recently, I have had little involvement in my grandfather’s affairs beyond helping settle his estates. Recent events, however, demanded my attention._
> 
> _My brother Timothy Murphy and I were devastated by the tragic incident on Isla Nublar last year. As I am sure can understand as a palaeontologist, we had been frustrated by the direction of the company and, following the incident and the death of Simon Masrani, CEO of the Masrani Global Corporation, in November last year we moved to seize control of InGen with the help of sympathetic board members. We are now in possession of the company and are working to make our grandfather’s final wishes a reality – he knew from the day Jurassic Park fell at Denis Nedry’s hands that a park would never truly be safe. The smallest blip in the system has catastrophic consequences, as we saw again on Isla Nublar in 2015. We had hoped, after so many years of smooth running that Jurassic World would remain a safe place for people to experience the wonder of prehistory, but the bioengineering that took place – creating the Idominus Rex – should never have occurred._
> 
> _It is time for both Jurassic Park and Jurassic World to truly become a part of our past, but that does not mean that we want to shut off the island completely. My grandfather’s final wish for Isla Sorna and Isla Nublar was for them to become places of low impact, non-evasive study. We have much to learn about and from these marvellous creatures, and the islands offer that opportunity._
> 
> _As a world-leading vertebra palaeontologist and the Head of International Palaeontological Research at Harvard, my brother and I would be honoured if you would meet with me to discuss the possibility of a research endeavour to Isla Sorna. I am in Boston for the next three days, but I understand your schedule is hectic at the best of times. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. I would be happy to fly back in the future should you wish to schedule a meeting._
> 
> _Warm Regards,  
>  _ _Alexis Murphy_
> 
> ________________
> 
> _President and Joint CEO  
>  _ _International Genetics Incorporated (InGen)_

Elizaveta stared at the screen a moment longer as she tried to process the information before she leant back in her chair. She’d followed last year’s events closely as every palaeontologist – and indeed the world – had. She was as surprised as many when the Murphy siblings seized control, and it appeared they had stuck by their promises, lofty though they had seemed at the time.

The invitation ignited a thrill of adventure in her veins – as desperate and heady as the first time she’d been offered the chance to get into the field in the second year of her Bachelor. But, at the same time, her mind grew wary. She’d heard the stories first hand from Dr Grant and Dr Malcolm over the years, had lived the terror of their encounters on Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna vicariously through their cautionary tales. Though her nightmares were haunted by other monsters, she felt the prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck, the icy shiver that danced on her spine at the thought of facing the animals she studied in the flesh.

Elizaveta glanced at the diagrams, charts, and posters on her walls, her eyes drawn to claws and teeth of all shapes and sizes. She needed only to see the life-size casting of a _Compsognathus Curiosicarius_ skeleton standing atop a short display pillar in the front corner of her office to know that even the smallest predator could be a deadly menace.

Thoughts churned in her mind, twisting and warring as she contemplated the offer. Much as she disagreed with _InGen_ ’s patchy history of bioengineering and unethical conduct she knew, logically, it would be remiss of her to pass up such an opportunity as the one offered by the young CEOs. After all, one of her key responsibilities was to investigate any and all field research opportunities.

Elizaveta leant forward again, resting her fingertips on the keyboard for a moment before they began to dance across the keys.

> _Dear Miss Murphy,_
> 
> _I would be pleased to meet with you to discuss this matter in person. I am available at eleven tomorrow. I can highly recommend Buckminster’s refreshments and menu. It should prove an ideal location to discuss your proposal._
> 
> _Best Wishes,  
>  _ _Elizaveta Volkov_
> 
> ________________
> 
> _BSc(Hons) MSc (Yale), DSc (Harvard)  
>  _ _Head of International Palaeontological Research  
>  _ _Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, Harvard University_

A pleasant sounding _swish_ marked the email’s departure. As simple as the words appeared on the page, the opportunities they unlocked were potentially endless. Building a working relationship with Alexis and Timothy Murphy and developing a research program in partnership with _InGen_ to benefit students and professional researchers alike was not out of the question. There would be limitations to any potential study, she knew. The question of time, finances, and desired findings (though she had never been one to respect the ‘desired’ outcomes if the research contested them) would be the focus of her meeting with Alexis, but she was a natural negotiator. As a woman, people often labelled her as manipulative and bossy when she fought for the respect she’d earned over the past sixteen years as a palaeontological researcher, but she much preferred her father’s labels.

Independent. Driven. Steadfast.

A woman like Alexis Murphy would understand well the importance of rising above bitter opinions, of fighting for the things she desired most in the world.

Elizaveta put the meeting in the university’s planning system, marking herself as out of the office for that period. She remembered well how frustrating it could be when a teacher mysteriously disappeared during their usual office hours. Though she got fewer visits as Head of International Palaeontological Research than when she’d been running classes, students often came looking for her to discuss applications for research travel.

She returned her focus to her notes, picking up her pen. She tapped it on the page as she tried to pick up where she’d left off, but questions continued to filter through her mind. What kind of research would she be conducting? What resources would be available? Would she be bringing her own team or would a team be supplied? If the latter, who would be on that team?

She could only guess.

* * *

Alexis glanced down at her watch, the shining silver face sparkling in the sun. It was five minutes to eleven, and the minutes were ticking by slowly. Her latte remained untouched, despite the delicious aroma from it – she wasn’t quite ready for her next intake of caffeine after a strong morning coffee only two hours before, not when she needed to keep herself focused. She stilled her tapping foot, the only indication of her nervous seven-minute wait.

 _Early_ , she thought to herself as she glanced around, seeing students, staff, and the general public milling around the tables, _early is always better than late_.

There was no sign of Professor Volkov yet, though Alexis knew it was irrational to be concerned. Elizaveta had long maintained a reputation for being earnest and efficient; she would not accept a meeting she did not plan to attend, and she was well known for her timely arrivals.

Four minutes later, much to Alexis’ relief, Elizaveta’s reputation held true. Alexis resisted the urge to leap out of her chair and stand at attention when the petite woman rounded the corner, but she did allow herself to admire the aura Elizaveta projected. Though her stature was small, she commanded attention and respect with her steely expression and strong stride, her heels clicking firmly on the pavement with every step. She wore a form-fitting pair of neat black slacks and a navy silk blouse with an attractive high neckline, accented by a thin black strip along the top edge. She drew the gazes of men and women alike, but her laser-like focus remained on Alexis.

Alexis rose to her feet when Elizaveta reached the table. ‘Professor Volkov,’ she said, containing her enthusiasm as best she could. It had been a thrill to receive a reply from such a reputable young scholar both she and Tim so admired. Meeting her in the flesh was a true privilege.

‘Miss Murphy – a pleasure,’ Elizaveta said, a pleasant smile lighting her lips as she settled into the seat opposite Alexis. She raised her hand at the passing waiter and he nodded before disappearing into the café. Elizaveta barely spared him a glance, her focus still on Alexis as she said, ‘shall we get to business?’

Alexis knew from Elizaveta’s reputation that the Professor was a no-nonsense, straight to the point kind of person. There would be no need to butter the academic up, so to speak, as she’d had to do with select board members who’d needed to feel important to be persuaded, and she was excited to dive into the proposal.

‘Oh, yes. I’ve brought a detailed proposal for you to peruse,’ Alexis said, reaching down and extracting a crisp flip folder from her bag, ‘we’re willing to give you full access to the island and equip you with any supplies and resources you need.’

‘And the research parameters?’ Elizaveta asked as she studied the document, eyes travelling so fast over the text that her irises were almost a blur. She was speed reading, Alexis realised as the woman soon flicked over the next page.

‘They are yours to set.’

Elizaveta paused, glancing up from the document. ‘Indeed?’

Alexis nodded. ‘The primary aim of the first three research trips will be to establish resources and a code of practice to be followed in regards to the islands and to decide if the available infrastructure is appropriate. We believe it would be best if the initial expeditions are as low impact as possible. Then, when you’re happy, you are welcome to conduct research on the island as you see fit.’

‘And who is in charge?’

‘You will lead the missions, and we’ll provide you with a small, expert team,’ Alexis said, hastily adding, ‘for safety purposes, and to provide any research support you may require,’ when Elizaveta arched an eyebrow at her.

Elizaveta gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head. The waiter returned, placing a small black coffee beside her without a word. She sipped at the steaming beverage as she continued to flick through the proposal.

Alexis folded her hands in her lap, linking her fingers to keep herself from fidgeting. ‘Also, once you’re satisfied with the resources on the island and the systems in place, we’d like to open up opportunities for other researchers and students from the university to make trips to the island under your supervision.’

Another small nod to acknowledge the words, before asking, ‘what systems?’

‘Well, since my brother and I took over _InGen_ with the view of making Isla Sorna a research facility and later expanding onto Isla Nublar once the site has been appropriately secured, we’ve been working with engineers in the company’s employ to build the state of the art shelters and bunkers for your protection.’

Elizaveta closed the proposal and laid it on the table. ‘Excellent, but it will do no good if I do not know I am being hunted.’

‘I agree, wholeheartedly,’ Alexis said, ‘which is why, shortly after the Kirbys landed illegally on the island, _InGen_ implemented an island-wide tagging initiative. We use heat scanning technology to detect dinosaurs and to monitor numbers, making it possible to track new specimens for tagging, and missions are conducted on the island as necessary to tag young dinosaurs.’ Alexis placed her netbook on the table. ‘As I’m sure you know, recent advances in technology make it much easier to monitor the dinosaurs on the island; the system on Isla Nublar at the Park was adapted from one tested on Isla Sorna, and we’ve made further upgrades only last month. We can remotely monitor the location of each individual dinosaur, and if a predator sets foot within a mile radius of your location, you receive an automatic warning.’ Alexis opened the screen, and with a few clicks she brought up the mapping systems. She turned the compact device to face Elizaveta. ‘Each dot is a dinosaur. Green for herbivores, yellow for scavengers, orange for small predatory species, and red for large predatory species–’ she tapped beside a dot, following it across the screen– ‘this dot shows this dinosaur’s movements in real time, and if you click on any dot it will bring up a catalogue of information about that dinosaur. All of the data that has been collected on that specific animal, including movement patterns, can be viewed from our devices.’

‘So you can see which areas of the island it frequents,’ Elizaveta said, and for the briefest moment, Alexis thought she caught a smile on the academic’s lips, perhaps even a hint of approval or admiration, ‘you have thought this through, Miss Murphy.’

‘With all due respect, I would not occupy your time if I did not believe we are ready to take the next steps with our program. My brother and I want nothing more than to see these animals and their islands treated with respect. _InGen_ did enough damage when they forced them back into existence for our entertainment almost three decades ago, which is why I have approached you. I’ve read your research extensively, including your critiques of _InGen_ ’s practices in bioengineering. As far as my brother and I are concerned, there is no one we trust more to conduct research in an appropriate, low impact manner than you, Professor.’

Elizaveta held Alexis’ gaze, her dark eyes unwavering. At that moment, Alexis felt like she was under a microscope, the intensity of the woman’s gold-flecked eyes almost overwhelming her. _This is what it means to be studied_ , she thought, resisting the urge to look away as Elizaveta’s eyes bored into hers. She felt trepidation trickle into her mind, a cold, sinking feeling in her gut that she couldn’t shake. It would be easy for Professor Volkov to dismiss her – after all, _InGen_ ’s reputation among palaeontologists was shaky at best. Combine that reputation with multiple disasters on both Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna, and Alexis wouldn’t be surprised if the academic threw the folder back in her face.

Elizaveta picked up her coffee, taking a few final sips of the rich blend before she returned her focus to Alexis. ‘Give me the evening,’ she finally said, rising from her seat, ‘you will have your answer tomorrow.’

Alexis rose too. ‘Thank you for your time, Professor.’

Elizaveta offered a nod. ‘And for yours, Miss Murphy.’

She turned away and Alexis stepped around the table. ‘Please, take this with you,’ she said, offering the dossier, ‘I’m sure you want to go over it in more detail.’

‘Not necessary,’ Elizaveta said, tapping her temple and flashing Alexis a rare, mischievous smile. She turned again, striding away from the table. She paused only to catch the waiter’s attention, handing him a note before pressing a kiss to his cheek to thank him for her drink, it seemed. It was a surprising gesture, in Alexis’ mind – she couldn’t have imagined the serious, almost stern academic being so gentle with anyone had she not witnessed the scene with her own eyes – but the waiter smiled warmly, Elizaveta’s name rolling smoothly off his tongue as he wished her well for the rest of the day.

It seemed there was much Alexis had to learn about Elizaveta Volkov.

* * *

Soft flickering light bathed the room, the candles casting shadows on the walls of her study. Though it lacked the posters and skeletal reproductions of predators, it held just as many books and files – perhaps more – as her Harvard office, the floor to ceiling bookcases almost filled to the brim with old research files, articles, and books.

Elizaveta tucked the silken robe tighter around herself as she settled into the soft leather chair, leaning in to make herself comfortable. The old clock on the wall ticked contently before a chime announced the arrival of two AM. After attempting a few hours of restless sleep, she’d realised that her tossing and turning was in vain. Her mind was simply too awake, too busy trying to process her thoughts and make one of the most important decisions in her career. She’d realised there was only one thing to do.

Her parents would be awake soon, getting ready to sit down to their breakfast as they did every morning at seven AM. If she could trust anyone to counsel her at this moment, it was them.

She tapped on her keyboard, bringing up _Skype_. With only a few clicks, she was dialling them across the seas. She picked up her mug, holding it between her hands and basking in the warmth of the strong tea within as she waited. Though she’d finished her studies six years ago, they still kept a laptop on overnight in case she called in a moment of need such as this.

Elizaveta perked up when the dial tone stopped, leaning closer to the screen, a smile breaking on her lips when she was greeted by her parents’ glowing smiles.

‘Eliza! _Slishkom dolgo, solnyshko moye_! Too long since you last called!’ Kazimir said, waving a finger at her playfully, ‘we missed you.’

‘Let me get a better look at my daughter – it’s been so long since I last saw your lovely face,’ Galina said, gently nudging Kazimir aside to get right in front of the screen, but when she laid her eyes on Elizaveta, her brow furrowed at the sight before her, ‘you look tired, _zvezda moya_. What is wrong?’

Elizaveta smiled warmly, trying her best to ease her mother’s concern. She often wondered why she had not been blessed with her mother’s gentle warmth, with her sweet heart-shaped face and soft curves. People in the states might have considered Galina homely and plain, but to Elizaveta, her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, inside and out. She always sensed when Elizaveta was troubled, no matter how hard Elizaveta tried to hide her emotions behind her usually steely visage. She should have known this time would be no different.

‘I had an interesting meeting today,’ Elizaveta said, placing her mug aside, ‘I wanted to tell you about it.’

‘It must have a very interesting meeting,’ Kazimir said as he settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk, ‘last time you called us at seven was to tell us your book was finalised. You have happy news again?’

‘I am not sure, _otets_. I have to be wary of opportunities that appear too good to be true.’

Kazimir chuckled. ‘Enough suspense, we are too old to wait so long!’

‘I met Alexis Murphy today,’ she said, pausing to allow her parents a moment to process the words, ‘she and her brother want me to run research trips to Isla Sorna, with the view of setting up both Isla Sorna and Isla Nublar as research venues.’

‘Well, you are the Head of International Research. You’ve run digs on every continent, yes? It does not surprise me they want you,’ Kazimir said.

‘I run _digs_ , _otets_. I am a palaeontologist. I study fossils, the _remains_ of creatures that have been dead for millions of years buried in dirt, rock, and sand, not the animals themselves.’

‘That may be true, _solnyshko moye_ , but you forget where you began all those years ago. I have not – I paid the bills your scholarship did not cover, after all.’ He tapped his temple, a playful smirk on his lips that made her chuckle. ‘You are a scientist, first and foremost. Much as you love palaeontology, you did your Honours in zoology. That makes you just as equipped to study the living creatures as you are their bones.’

‘We know what you think of _InGen_ ,’ Galina said, leaning closer to the screen to catch her daughter’s gaze, ‘but I also remember what you were like as a little girl. Your favourite toys were always the dinosaurs, no matter how many people tried to tell you they were for boys. You would always put your hands on your little hips and tell them science was for everyone.’ Her rich, chocolate coloured eyes shone with endless pride at the memories. ‘I know you, _zvezda moya_. You would not have called if you were not considering it an option. Why not take this opportunity, study the creatures you love dearly in the flesh rather than bone?’

Elizaveta thought back to the posters in her Harvard office, to the detailed images of predators of all sizes that hung on her walls. Much as her rational mind knew to fear their teeth and claws, that same thrill of adventure she’d felt in her office when she’d first received Alexis’ email ignited in her veins. Alexis believed the dossier she’d offered was small but Elizaveta knew the opportunity held within the pages was vast beyond the dreams of her colleagues and students, and the young CEO had proven well that she would not sacrifice safety for spectacle, as had been done at Jurassic World.

‘Sleep on it,’ Kazimir said, drawing on the turmoil in Elizaveta’s features to craft his reply, ‘you will know by morning what to do, I am certain.’

Elizaveta bit back a sigh at his suggestion. _Sleep on it_ was his usual direction when she felt torn by decisions such as this. Though it made sense logically, she wondered if she could truly sleep with so many thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

‘I will try, _otets_ ,’ she said finally, knowing she did not sound confident that she would succeed, ‘I will let you get ready for work. _Ya lyublui vas_ ,’ she said, placing a kiss to her fingertips and pressing them to the screen. Her parents did the same, both of them smiling warmly at their daughter one last time before Elizaveta ended the _Skype_ call.

She settled into her chair, picking up her mug. Most of the warmth had evaporated from the ceramic, the contents barely lukewarm as she took a sip, but she was too far lost in her thoughts to care. Deep down, she knew that no matter what, her decision would be clouded by her judgement – of _InGen_ , of Jurassic Park and Jurassic World – but also by her excitement. She needed a moment of peace, a second of clarity between the clamour of clashing views that she feared would never come.

She glanced over at the wall as she tried to wade through the mess in her mind; the original copies of each of her degrees hung in the only space not occupied by towering bookshelves, framed handsomely in rich mahogany, the protective glass reflecting the dancing light of the diminishing candle. With them hung a photo of her and her colleagues at Harvard, taken shortly after she accepted her current position. She slid out of her chair, stepping closer and staring at the image. It wasn’t one of her favourite photos – her expression was firmer than it should have been, the ghost of a smile on her lips that did not quite reach her eyes, despite the happiness attached to her memories of the moment – but looking at that image made her realise that clarity should come not from her clamouring opinions, but the firm belief in her ability.

 _I am the Head of International Palaeontological Research at Harvard University, one of the most accomplished and renowned of universities in the world,_ she thought, her decision settling into her mind, _if anyone can make this work for myself, my staff, and my students – it’s me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Slishkom dolgo, solnyshko moye_ \- too long, my small sun/sweetheart.  
>  _zvezda moya_ \- my star.  
>  _otets_ \- father.  
>  _solnyshko moye_ \- my small sun/sweetheart.  
>  _Ya lyublui vas_ \- I love you.


	2. The Adventurous Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...The therapist he’d seen after leaving Jurassic World would hardly approve – placing himself back in similar surrounds would be detrimental to his mental health and wellbeing, in the long run, Doctor Wilkins would say – but this was different. He could feel it in his gut, in the iron will of his instinct that demanded he take this leap and start a new chapter in his life..._

 

* * *

**Chapter Two**  
The Adventurous Heart

A curse sounded in the hallway, followed shortly by the dull clatter of keys hitting the carpet. Owen bent down to scoop them up, grumbling as he did so. He rolled his eyes as, this time, the key slid straight into the lock. It would take some time to get used to this new apartment, and perhaps, even more, to remember which of the three keys he’d been given opened the front door.

He hung his jacket as he entered, kicking the door closed behind him, his attention turning to the pile of letters in his hands. Nothing exciting – only two bills and an unremarkable envelope, probably a pamphlet – but it was better than being plagued by requests for interviews by journalists and conspiracy theorists.

He made a beeline for the fridge, the letters tucked under his arm. He put the few items from the grocery store in the fridge and grabbed a beer; it hissed as he twisted the top, and he took a few quick sips of the refreshing liquid as he made his way through his house. He dropped onto the couch, placing his beer to the side as he opened up the bills, quickly checking over the details before he placed them aside. He stared at the plain envelope, marked only by his address; there wasn’t even a return address.

_Mysterious_ , he thought wryly as he tore open the top, pulling out a single page, but his cautious smile turned into a sneer when his eyes fell on the letterhead. _InGen_ was emblazoned across the top, the familiar logo making his stomach churn. His first instinct was to tear the letter into pieces, perhaps even set them ablaze – it would be a satisfying sight, to see even the smallest fraction of _InGen_ burn – but as he stared at the page, a name caught his eye.

_Murphy_.

Despite how hot his instinctual anger still burned, the name was enough to pique his interest, his eyes darting to the start of the letter.

> _Dear Mr Grady,_
> 
> _My name is Timothy Murphy. I believe you are familiar with my grandfather, John Hammond, the founder of InGen. Until recently, I have not been involved in my grandfather’s affairs._
> 
> _Although my sister Alexis Murphy and I do not have fond memories of our visit to the original park in the 90s, we understand that Jurassic World was much loved by staff and visitors, and we were devastated upon hearing about the tragic incident on Isla Nublar. I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for what you experienced at Jurassic World last year, and my condolences – I have read your reports and research about your team of velociraptors and heard about your close bond with them._
> 
> _As I am sure you understand from your previous experiences with the InGen Security Division, my sister and I have been frustrated by the direction of the company’s direction for some time, particularly when we discovered that Vic Hoskin intended to weaponise the velociraptors. In November last year, following the incident at Jurassic World and the death of Simon Masrani, CEO of the Masrani Global Corporation, Alexis and I made the decision to seize control of InGen with the help of sympathetic board members. We are now in possession of the company and are working to make our grandfather’s final wishes a reality. He knew from the day the Park fell as a result of Denis Nedry’s fatal meddling that a park would never truly be safe. The smallest error in the system – whether intentional or not – has catastrophic consequences, as we experienced in our youth, and as you experienced on Isla Nublar in 2015. We had hoped after many years of stability that the new park would remain a safe place for people to experience the wonder and joy dinosaurs bring to our lives, but it is my firm belief that the bioengineering that took place – creating the Idominus Rex – should never have occurred. It is my understanding that we are on the same page in this matter._
> 
> _While it is time for Jurassic World to become a part of our past that does not mean that my sister and I want to shut off the island completely. My grandfather’s final wish for Isla Sorna and Isla Nublar was for them to become places of low impact, non-evasive study. We have so much to learn about and from these marvellous creatures, and the islands offer that opportunity._
> 
> _My sister and I wish to cordially invite you to discuss in person the possibility of joining a small research endeavour to Isla Sorna. You are uniquely experienced, both as a former member of the US Navy, and as the lead trainer in the IBRIS Project, and this will greatly benefit our efforts to establish the island as a research base. I understand that you may have reservations about this proposal – I only ask you give me an hour of your time to discuss this in more detail. I am currently in Columbus in anticipation of meeting you in person, should you choose to accept. Please contact me at your earliest convenience – my business card is attached._
> 
> _Kind Regards,  
>  _ _Timothy Murphy_
> 
> ________________
> 
> _Joint CEO  
>  _ _International Genetics Incorporated (InGen)_

This was a very different _InGen_ to the one he’d experienced, he knew. For weeks after the November takeover – toted as one of the biggest corporate coups in recent history – the Murphys’ toppling of the inept management of _InGen_ and their reorganisation and reestablishment of the company as a research body dominated the news. It had been difficult to believe at first, but he’d kept up with the events, initially through conversations with Claire, and then through his own research as they’d drifted apart.

_Is this a job offer?_ Owen wondered, scanning the page again. Though there wasn’t enough detail to be certain, he had no doubts it was indeed an offer. He didn’t technically need a job at the moment. Compensation payments were scheduled for at least another year – he’d done as suggested in the crisis meetings following the evacuation and, for the first time in a long time, he’d actually explored some of his interests rather than leap straight back into employment. Though the funding he received was meagre in comparison to the salary he’d enjoyed at Jurassic World, it sufficed, easily covering his bills and rent for the modest apartment. He’d spent years in the navy living out of a suitcase and little had changed; he’d always had minimal personal possessions, even less than before because most of them were still inaccessible, his trailer on Isla Nublar abandoned and access to the island restricted.

Questions flooded his mind, but the letter offered little information apart from what was written on the page. There was no dossier, no secret codes that he could discern. Apart from the business card that was attached by a paperclip to the back of the letter, there was only the one page of the letter.

Very little to go on, indeed.

Owen slid the business card from the paperclip, flipping it around in his fingers to look at the front and back. It was a simple design, embossed into attractive, sturdy cardstock, Timothy Murphy’s name, title, and contact details inked in neat black lettering. He chewed his bottom lip as he read the phone number, the mass of competing questions in his mind replaced by one and one alone:

_Why the hell not?_

He leant back on the couch, holding onto the business card with one hand as he dug in his front pocket with the other. He keyed in the numbers, hitting dial on what he knew would be one of the most interesting conversations he’d had for months.

* * *

Owen dropped down from the pull-up bar as his watch vibrated pointedly against his wrist with an alert. He glanced at the time, catching the last few minutes before nine AM. As he showered and dressed in preparation for Timothy Murphy’s arrival, he replayed the conversation from the previous morning in his mind.

Interesting didn’t even begin to cover it.

He’d just slipped a neat t-shirt over his torso when he heard a sharp _tap-tap-tap_ on the door. It seemed Timothy was not one to dawdle.

He unlocked the door, opening it wide. Timothy smiled brightly; his face retained much of his boyish youth despite his age, his eyes sparkling eagerly as he extended his hand and said, ‘it’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mr Grady.’

Owen took the offered hand, smiling warmly. ‘Owen, please,’ he said, stepping back to invite Timothy into the house. He led him inside to the kitchen table. Much as the couch was more comfortable, he suspected he’d have a few documents to review.

‘Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?’ he asked, lifting the recent brew.

‘Lovely,’ Timothy said as he settled into a chair and dug around in his back, ‘milk and one please.’

Owen set about preparing the beverage, though his eyes continued to drift over to the table. He watched as Timothy set up his laptop and pulled out a neat folder, laying it on the table opposite him. There was an edge of carefully contained enthusiasm in every movement Timothy made; for a moment, Owen thought the man might even have been humming to himself as he prepared.

‘Here,’ Owen said, placing the steaming mug beside Timothy, receiving the enthusiastic ‘thanks’ he’d expected. He settled into the chair opposite Timothy, leaning back as he continued to watch the man. ‘You didn’t give me a lot of information over the phone. I admit I’m pretty curious to know what this is all about.’

Timothy glanced up from the laptop. ‘Oh, I expect you would be,’ he said, shifting the laptop aside, ‘which is why I brought these documents. This folder contains all the information about the proposal, and you’re welcome to ask me to clarify anything.’

Owen glanced down at the folder. It appeared innocuous enough, the exterior made of a matte white plastic without any marks or logos. He placed his coffee aside, flipping open to cover to scan the first page. It was indeed a job offer; covering a period of six months, salaried, and with benefits. He flicked through the rest of the offer, noting numerous references to ‘research’ and ‘security’, and realising that they wished to hire him both for his experience with prehistoric predators and his military expertise.

‘So, this is a research trip?’ he said, leaning closer as he flicked to another page, this time reading descriptions of the resources and security systems. Although he was sceptical about security when it came to _InGen_ after his experiences on Isla Nublar, he knew that the failure resulted primarily as a result of underestimating the Indominus Rex’s abilities; prior to the creation of that monster, the Park had run smoothly and safely for years. The security set up described in the document before him was one of the most impressive setups he’d ever laid eyes on.

‘A series of trips, actually, with the potential for bi-monthly, monthly, or extended expeditions in future should Professor Volkov be satisfied with available resources and security.’

_Volkov_ , Owen thought, struggling to catch the name in his mind. He felt he should recognise it – he was clearly an important person in the field for the Murphys to select him to establish Isla Sorna as a research base – but nothing clicked into place.

‘This Professor… they’re not from _InGen_?’

Timothy shook his head sharply. ‘We specifically sought out Professor Volkov based on experience as a palaeontological researcher and in conducting research on an international scale. As far as my sister and I are concerned, there’s no one better to assess this undertaking. If you’d like to look for yourself I’ve included the Professor’s resume.’ He grinned, not a hint of jest in his voice as he said, ‘I’m sure you’ll find it a rather long and enlightening read, as I did.’

‘Maybe later,’ Owen said, closing the folder. He picked up his coffee, leaning back in his chair again to level his gaze on the eager younger Murphy. ‘I’ve got to admit, this is one hell of a proposal. Good benefits too,’ he said, tapping the folder, ‘but I do have a couple of extra conditions I’m going to need in writing before I agree to this.’

‘Of course, I am sure I can arrange just about anything you desire.’

‘First, I need confirmation and reassurance that none of _InGen_ ’s mad scientists will have anything to do with this research.’

‘I can assure you that we’ve done some… work in the research division. We’re overhauling it entirely, as a matter of fact, hence our decision to contact you to offer you a position as part of this preliminary research team.’

Owen nodded. ‘Good to know. Second, who else do you have in mind for the team? You said last night that a team of three would be the ideal. Who did you have in mind for the third member?’

‘At this stage, we’ve not got anyone specific in mind–’

‘I do,’ Owen said, leaning on the table, ‘he worked with me at Jurassic World with the raptors. There’s no one else I trust more to watch my back, and on an island full of predators, that’s what you need, no matter how many safety systems are in place.’

‘And who is this?’

‘Barry. He’s the third team member.’ He held Timothy’s gaze, judging the man’s reactions. Timothy clearly recognised the name, no hint of surprise crossing his face. Owen had subtly gaged his knowledge about the velociraptors, and the man had indeed read all of the reports in detail, to the point that Owen suspected he might have memorised them.

After a moment of thought, Timothy nodded, that enthusiastic grin lighting his lips. ‘I believe you’re right.’

Owen offered his hand across the table, a confident smile on his lips as he said, ‘then I believe I’m in.’

* * *

Owen closed the door after seeing Timothy off. He’d quickly realised once he’d committed to the offer that the enthusiasm the younger Murphy radiated was infectious, his heart hammering eagerly in his chest as his mind tried in vain to consider the opportunities opening up for him. The therapist he’d seen after leaving Jurassic World would hardly approve – placing himself back in similar surrounds would be detrimental to his mental health and wellbeing, in the long run, Doctor Wilkins would say – but this was different. He could feel it in his gut, in the iron will of his instinct that demanded he take this leap and start a new chapter in his life. He’d never be able to rewrite the previous one, but that didn’t mean it needed to be scrapped entirely; he had many fond memories of his time at Jurassic World, and though he and Claire had drifted apart as lovers, the friendship they’d formed remained. Surely dwelling on the negatives was worse than finding a way to turn them into positives?

Now, he had a phone call to make, and an urgent one at that. He glanced down at his watch. It was a short time past ten AM, making it mid-afternoon in France – a perfect time to make an international call.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, settling onto the couch to make the call. He knew he was asking a lot of his friend; returning to a Jurassic island would scratch at the mental scars formed on that fateful day when Blue, one of the velociraptors turned on Barry, the bond formed between trainer and raptor betrayed in the face of the Indominus Rex. Though they knew well the instincts that lurked deep within these creatures could not be tamed or broken, no amount of rationality could mend the heartbreak of seeing these same creatures they’d nursed from the moment they emerged from their shells attempt to shred him without a second thought.

The ringer sounded tinny through the speaker, but it only lasted a moment before the click sounded, signalling the call connecting. There was a moment of quiet before Barry’s warm, melodic voice filtered through.

‘Owen? It’s good to hear from you my friend,’ he said, accent made thicker by the gentle crackle through the connection, ‘how ‘ave you been?’

‘Good, good,’ Owen said, finding himself leaning forward as he struggled to think of a way to broach the subject of _InGen’s_ offer, ‘I’ve picked up some hobbies, found a nice apartment finally.’

‘All coming together, then. Very good.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Owen said, glad that Barry wouldn’t see the grimace on his face through the speaker, ‘what about you?’

‘I am in good spirits; it is summer here, after all.’ He chuckled. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this call? The rates are not cheap.’

‘I have some… interesting news. Wanted to ask what you think about it,’ Owen said, mustering a final ounce of courage, ‘I was offered a job today.’

‘Indeed? That’s excellent, no?’

‘It could be. I’d be part of a small research team with excellent resources and funding working to set up an area as a permanent, non-invasive and low impact research facility.’

‘I’m intrigued. Who with? And where?’

‘That’s the thing… remember how the Murphys took over _InGen_ late last year?’ Barry made a non-committal noise, and Owen sensed that his demeanour had cooled at the mention of the company. ‘Their proposal is to set up Isla Sorna as a restricted research zone, and they’ve asked me to be part of the preliminary team with a Professor. They want us to assess the resources and infrastructure over the next six months, and if we deem it appropriate, they want to look into opening it up for other small research teams. From what I’ve seen, they’re sticking to their guns – no more genetic modifications, no more new dinosaurs.’

‘You mean no more monsters,’ Barry said, warmth drained from his voice, words sharp as a whip.

‘No more monsters,’ Owen muttered, ‘no more mad scientists.’

‘You would only tell me this if you had a reason. You want me to come.’

It wasn’t a question.

‘You’re the only person I trust by my side,’ Owen said, ‘if you don’t think it’s a good idea, then I’m not going.’

The line went silent for a moment, only the soft background noise coming through the speaker before Barry said, ‘and you would not be considering it if you did not think it worth it.’ Barry sighed. ‘I do not trust _InGen_ but I trust you, Owen. I am willing to listen.’

Owen talked Barry through the details as he’d heard them from Timothy, flipping through the pages of the folder to provide more exact information about the detailed security infrastructure and systems in place, adding in his thoughts about each part, from the real-time dinosaur tracking systems to the heavily fortified bunker and accommodation.

‘Who is this Professor you mention?’ Barry asked when Owen finished outlining the objectives of the proposed research missions.

‘Some big name Harvard Professor. Voltov or Volkov – something like that. There’s some info in the proposal Murphy gave me.’

‘Volkov… Volkov. I ‘ave heard that name before, I think. Send me through a copy of the dossier; I’ll look at it when I get home,’ he said, voice warmed by the interest the conversation stirred, ‘but Owen… what does your gut say about all this?’

Owen could still feel the weight of his instinct, its iron will demanding to be sated. Though he felt a healthy edge of fear at the thought of stepping foot on Isla Sorna, into Jurassic territory, deep down he knew he would regret missing this opportunity.

‘My gut says it’s ready.’

For a moment, the line fell silent again. Owen found himself holding his breath; he’d meant it when he’d said he trusted Barry, that his friend was the only person he wanted by his side. As much as his instinct screamed at him to take the leap, he valued Barry’s opinion more than words could express.

‘Well,’ Barry said finally, a soft chuckle in his voice, ‘your gut might be misled on occasion, but I can hear you are confident in it, so I am too. I best find my passport.’

They both said goodbye, buoyed by the prospect of working together again despite the fact that the offer came from _InGen_. Owen picked up the folder, intent on taking it straight to his small office to scan the documents within, but he realised he hadn’t even read all of them himself. He settled into the couch cushions, flicking through the carefully organised pages – aims, resources – through to the final section: Professor Volkov’s resume. His stomach dipped with guilt when he saw the name emblazoned across the top of the page. He’d assumed since he’d first heard the name Volkov that the Professor would be a bedraggled, tweed-wearing man with a wispy beard and thick-rimmed glasses – a stereotypical image, in retrospect.

_Elizaveta Volkov_   
_Head of International Palaeontological Research_  
_Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, Harvard University_  
_Cambridge, Massachusetts, 02138  
_ _Tel: (617) 495- 2351 | E-mail: elizaveta.volkov@harvard.edu_

He flicked through the pages briefly at first. Timothy hadn’t been exaggerating when he said it was long; it covered five pages in a neat twelve point font, each section organised from most recent to earliest. The first page held a concise research interests paragraph and the rest of the page was engulfed by her experience. Over the years she’d held just about every role an up and coming academic could; she’d started as a teachers’ assistant and associate researcher, stepped up to sessional lecturer and tutor in vertebrate palaeontology, and then become Head Lecturer in palaeontological studies. Owen wouldn’t have thought there would be anywhere else to go after reaching that position, and yet the most recent role on the page was Head of International Research. He could see why the Murphys were so interested; the experience Volkov would amass not only as a palaeontologist but also as an academic diplomat would be invaluable to _InGen_ ’s ultimate aim of establishing both Isla Sorna and Isla Nublar as research facilities.

Owen flicked past Volkov’s experience and was confronted by a list of publications and presentations so long that it trickled over the page. He found himself counting subconsciously as he read each title, a startling total forming in his mind once he reached the end of the second page. In the span of her career, Volkov had published three monographs and 27 articles, with less than half being co-authored. He quickly noticed a trend in her research, not only from her listed interests but in the publications and papers: each one focused on a prehistoric predator or predators. Size did not matter, it seemed. If it had teeth or claws, she’d studied it.

As he flicked over again, finding her education, he paused. He flicked back to the previous page to view her earliest publication, a startling realisation forming in his mind as he stared at the date. In the same year she finished her Bachelor, Volkov was listed as a co-author of an article. He recognised the academic listed as the primary author – he’d read much of their work because it was useful to gain a better understanding of the velociraptors – and he wondered now how many more of Volkov’s articles he’d read.

Owen flicked over to the last page, which held a few final pieces of information, including an impressive list of languages Volkov was apparently fluent in, and her references and associations. He’d almost scoffed at Timothy’s enthusiasm when he’d said the resume was both a long and interesting read, but Owen had to admit that his interest was indeed piqued.

He placed the resume on the cushion beside him, trading it for a laptop. He booted the device up, opening a browser. Someone with this kind of history had to have an online footprint, at least through the university.

_Volkov Harvard_ , he typed, and the first entry offered by the search engine was her university profile, as he’d hoped. He clicked on it, expecting to see much of the same information on the page as was listed on her resume, but he was pleasantly surprised to find the profile also contained a picture. Even though he’d shaken the stereotypical old-man professor image from his mind, the assumption that such a polished resume was held by an elderly academic remained. Yet, the image that greeted him was of a young woman and a beautiful one at that.

Owen clicked on the image to view a full-size version of her profile picture. His eyes traced her features, noting sharp, high cheekbones, a slim, straight nose, and supple, dusky lips. Dark, shining curls framed her face, dusted with a hint of contour that served to highlight the sharp line of her jaw. She wasn’t smiling, as people often do in profile pictures. There was a sharpness to her gaze, accentuated by her striking features and dark hair, which belied the warmth of her honeyed-brown eyes.

His eyes trailed down further, to the high neckline of her silken white blouse, the fabric pristine. He’d seen Volkov’s type many times before. Her resume might be impressive but Volkov was most likely the palaeontological equivalent of a blue-collar pen pusher, the person who organised the dig but refused to get her hands dirty for fear she’d break a nail.

_Great,_ he thought sarcastically as he closed the laptop, _another high-maintenance academic wanting a VIP tour._ It felt like typical _InGen_ practice, getting a shiny, top name academic in to sign off on their next harebrained scheme. Perhaps the Murphys hadn’t learnt from their grandfather’s mistakes, as they claimed. After all, when John Hammond was preparing to open the original Jurassic Park more than two decades ago, he’d brought in Dr Grant, Dr Sattler, and Dr Malcolm, hoping they would sign off on the venture. Ultimately, the plan had backfired, and the disaster they’d lived through resulted in the original park’s demise.

Owen shook his head. It was no use letting these questions overwhelm him again, especially when they were based on so many assumptions about motive. His gut said that Timothy’s intentions were honest and that the documents in the folder supported the Murphys’ aims. He did not know what the next few months would hold, but Owen was ready to face them.


	3. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...Alexis handed Elizaveta the manifest, sitting down opposite her in the chair Timothy had just vacated. The Professor started flicking through the pages, sipping her coffee as she perused the list resources. Timothy arched an eyebrow at Alexis over Elizaveta’s shoulder, hoping to get some indication of the Professor’s reaction to the manifest, but Alexis responded with a small, sharp shake of her head. As when Elizaveta had read the initial proposal in Buckminster’s, her expression was inscrutable, her eyes darting across the page. She’d warned her brother that the academic came across as stoic and cold when analysing information but it seemed he’d forgotten in his… distraction._
> 
>  
> 
> _‘Everything appears to be in order,’ Elizaveta said, startling the siblings from their silent conversation. She placed the clipboard on the desk, settling into her chair. ‘Assuming the other team members arrive on time, we’ll have no troubles setting off at eight.’..._

* * *

**Chapter Three  
****Taking Flight**  

Elizaveta leant into the boot of the car, adjusting the straps on her heavy pack before she hoisted it onto her shoulders. It weighed almost as much as her, she was sure, but she had little choice but to bear the weight; all items within were either requisite clothing or essential to her research. Despite her colleagues’ suggestion, she had no plans to walk around a jungle naked.

Over the last three weeks, she’d discussed the impending venture many times over the phone with both Alexis and Timothy, and it was hard to resist the draw of the Murphys’ infectious enthusiasm. In some ways, she was as relieved as she was nervous to be so close to stepping foot on Isla Sorna. The last time she’d felt such excitement before a research trip was shortly after she accepted her role as Head of International Research at Harvard.

She glanced at her watch, finding she’d arrived well before the planned eight o’clock AM departure time. The sun had barely risen into the sky, the early morning light warming her. Alexis had said she could arrive at any time, that the hanger would be open to prepare for the journey.

‘ _Algo más, señorita?_ ’

She glanced up, smiling warmly at the cab driver. ‘ _No, gracias_ ,’ she said, _‘tenga un buen día_.’

The driver tipped his hat, bidding her a good day also before he climbed back into his cab. Elizaveta watched him for only a moment before she started towards _InGen_ ’s private hanger, her attention drawn by a group of coverall clad employees as they rolled a sleek helicopter through the doors, the company’s logo emblazoned across the back quarter. As Elizaveta approached the large, curved building Alexis rushed out to meet her, shielding herself from the morning sunlight reflecting off the polished white paint of the helicopter.

‘Good morning, Professor Volkov,’ Alexis said, waving one her employees over with her so the crew member could relieve Elizaveta of her pack, ‘I’m pleased to say we’re on schedule. The mechanics and crew are doing final checks now.’

‘And the provisions I requested?’ Elizaveta asked as she relinquished the heavy bag, though she refused to part with her satchel.

‘Most of the resources were sent ahead last week with the tagging team,’ Alexis said, directing Elizaveta into the hanger, ‘the rest are flying across with you. I have the manifest for you to sign off on and some freshly brewed coffee out back in the office. I expect it was a long night.’

‘Indeed it was,’ Elizaveta admitted. Though it was only an eight hour trip between Boston and Costa Rica – a short jaunt, in comparison to some of her other international ventures – she’d spent the flight next to a chronic snorer. No earplugs would have given her relief from the man.

Alexis held the door open into the neat, utilitarian office. Elizaveta’s nose twitched at the first whiff of coffee in the air, but she was to be denied a few minutes longer. The moment she entered the room, a tall, slim man popped up from a chair behind the desk.

‘Professor,’ he said, a bright smile lighting his face, ‘how wonderful to finally meet you in person!’

‘Mr Murphy, I presume,’ Elizaveta said, accepting the hand he offered.

‘Tim, please,’ he said, his grip firm and warm, his bright, sincere eyes catching hers. There was a deceptive youthfulness to his appearance; had she not known better she might have assumed him to be in his early twenties, the age of many of the graduate students in her department, rather than his thirties. ‘There are so many things I wish to discuss with you regarding your recently published theories about the hunting habits of _Dilophosauridae_ , especially your initial findings from the dig in Tunja last year. That you discovered a specimen of the _Dracovenator_ with both a nearly complete skull and a portion of the upper body attached is truly wonderful for–’

Alexis coughed, arching an eyebrow at her brother, who promptly snapped his jaw shut. He chuckled meekly, glancing down for the barest moment as he tried to recover his decorum. ‘Sorry, I’m getting away from today’s objectives.’

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ Elizaveta said, ‘I’m surprised you’re not a palaeontologist yourself, with such a great interest.’

‘I considered it when I was young but I was rather put off the notion after–’ his smile tightened– ‘Well, let’s just say I needed some space from dinosaurs for a few years.’

Elizaveta had no doubts about what he referred to. ‘In any case,’ she said, feeling it would be best to draw his mind away from the subject, ‘I appreciate your enthusiasm, Tim. I would be happy to discuss my findings when I return.’

‘Perhaps over coffee?’

The suggestion was accompanied by a charming smile. Though there was a lingering hint of boyishness in it, the gaze that fell upon her was that of a man, his interest clear and not wholly academic. A touch forward, perhaps, on their first meeting, but Elizaveta took it as a compliment. She did not get to reply, however.

Alexis cleared her throat politely. ‘ _Speaking_ of coffee,’ she said, throwing a sideways glance at her brother that made his ears turn a vivid shade of red before she moved to the corner of the room. Curls of steam rose from the pot of the freshly brewed beverage as she lifted it from the cradle, pouring a mug for Elizaveta. She placed it on the desk, inviting Elizaveta to take a seat before she picked up a clipboard.

Alexis handed Elizaveta the manifest, sitting down opposite her in the chair Timothy had just vacated. The Professor started flicking through the pages, sipping her coffee as she perused the list of resources. Timothy arched an eyebrow at Alexis over Elizaveta’s shoulder, hoping to get some indication of the Professor’s reaction to the manifest, but Alexis responded with a small, sharp shake of her head. As when Elizaveta had read the initial proposal in _Buckminster’s,_ her expression was inscrutable, her eyes darting across the page. She’d warned her brother that the academic came across as stoic and cold when analysing information but it seemed he’d forgotten in his… distraction.

‘Everything appears to be in order,’ Elizaveta said, startling the siblings from their silent conversation. She placed the clipboard on the desk, settling into her chair. ‘Assuming the other team members arrive on time, we’ll have no troubles setting off at eight.’

* * *

Owen glanced at his watch, then over the shoulder of the cab driver at the road ahead. He gripped the seat as the enthusiastic, lanky, middle-aged man wound his way through morning traffic, singing along happily to the radio.

‘You can’t slow the clock down just by looking at your watch.’

Owen resisted the urge to grumble at Barry for stating the obvious. They’d been stuck in the cab for almost half an hour, despite the fact that the trip to _InGen_ ’s private airfield was usually a short one. Owen had asked their driver to take the shortest route but it seemed the man had not understood Owen’s Spanish, which he’d believed he had a reasonable grasp of up to this point.

Or perhaps the problem was that _selective_ would describe better the cab driver’s hearing.

‘Are you impatient because we’re late?’ Barry asked, leaning casually in his seat, a mischievous smile on his lips, ‘Or because you’re eager to meet the Professor?’

Owen threw a sharp glance at his friend. ‘Can you drop it already?’

‘Drop what?’

Owen rolled his eyes. ‘I said she was pretty one time in the last three weeks.’

‘You’re exact words were–’

‘You’re the one that keeps bringing this up, not me.’

Owen did need Barry to repeat his exact words. He distinctly remembered the moment he’d been describing Professor Volkov over the phone when a more unorthodox part of his description had flown out of his mouth before he could bite the words back. He could also remember the raucous laughter that promptly followed, something he _did_ wish to forget.

Owen glanced down at his watch again. ‘I’m impatient because we’re due on the helicopter in ten minutes but our driver doesn’t seem too keen on relinquishing an extended fare.’

Barry chuckled. ‘We’ll be there in time. Just wait.’

 _Calm and collected, as always_ , Owen thought wryly. Much as he didn’t like where the conversation had almost gone, he did enjoy being in Barry’s company again. They understood and trusted each other, and although their banter could get intense, it was always in good fun.

Seven minutes later they pulled up at the private airport. A flurry of paying and bag gathering followed, and they rushed over to the familiar hanger. Much to Owen’s relief, he could only see the crew in and around the helicopter, neither the Murphys nor the Professor in sight. Crew members met them at the hanger doors, taking their bags and instructing them to head to the office in the back.

‘Told you we’d make it,’ Barry said, nudging Owen in the ribs as they hurried through the hanger past a selection of _InGen_ ’s private transport fleet. It had been months since he’d been here; more than a year, he realised as he thought back to the last voluntary trip he’d made back to the mainland for a period of leave in 2014.

They didn’t make it to the office before the door opened, Timothy Murphy leading the way through. His eyes fell on Owen and Barry as the pair ground to a halt, a grin lighting his lips.

‘Ah, right on time!’ he said, covering the distance in a few strides. He offered his hand to Barry, as enthusiastic as he was on the morning of his meeting with Owen. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Monsieur Jolivet. You came highly recommended.’

Barry smiled warmly. ‘Please, my father is Monsieur Jolivet. Call me Barry.’ He turned to Alexis, shaking her hand too, and Owen thought he saw a hint of scarlet in the woman’s cheek when Barry brought her hand up and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

 _Ever the charmer_ , Owen thought, hiding his smirk as he moved to greet Alexis. He heard the office door close behind the Murphys and glanced over Alexis’ shoulder.

‘Professor Volkov,’ Alexis said, following Owen’s gaze, ‘I’ll go alert the crew to prepare for take-off. Tim, can you please introduce the Professor to the rest of her research team?’

Alexis headed towards the helicopter. On any other day, Owen would have caught the glance Alexis threw back at Barry if only to gather more ammunition in later banter, but he was too focused on the woman who appeared beside Timothy. Clad in khaki, a dark jacket, and heavy boots, and carrying a battered satchel, it took Owen a moment to realise that the dark haired woman was the very same one he’d seen on Harvard’s website. He was so focused on trying to match the contradictory appearance of the Professor’s profile picture with the woman before him, he missed part of his introduction.

He took her hand on instinct, scrabbling through all the information in his mind he’d learnt about her before he said. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Elizabeth.’

‘Yeleezah _vye_ tah.’

Owen almost cringed at the correction, but there was no anger in her gaze, only patience – the pronunciation was a common mistake she encountered, one she probably corrected on instinct – yet he still felt his stomach lurch with guilt. He’d formed so many assumptions over the last few weeks. He’d expected her to be stony, but her chestnut brown eyes sparkled with hints of gold, warm and inviting, intense in ways he’d never anticipated. He’d expected her voice to be high and falsely sweet, but her name rolled off her tongue, a husky note in her voice that surprised him as much as it warmed him. He’d assumed her hands would be smooth, having touched nothing harsher than pen or paper, but he was pleasantly surprised to feel callouses on her fingers and palms, even a few scars.

Up close, Owen realised that her Harvard profile picture did not do her justice. Though she wore a high-neck top, her shirt sleeves were rolled up to show her forearms, her khaki shorts revealing leanly muscled legs. Her skin was bronzed by the sun, warm and radiant in the light that poured into the hanger, but it was the smile he caught on her lips as she turned to greet Barry that stirred his interest most.

‘ _Il est agréable de vous rencontrer, Barry_.’

‘ _Vous parlez français, professeur_?’

‘ _Oui, et quelques autres langues_.’

He wanted to concentrate on her conversation with Barry, to translate their rapid-fire French, but he was too focused on _her_. Without the light dusting of makeup she’d been wearing in her profile picture he noticed three distinct scars on the right side of her face. There was a barely noticeable patch missing from her eyebrow, a pale, faded scar partially hidden by the dark, neatly kept hairs. There were two newer marks as well, one bright white, sharply angled scar on the highest point of her cheekbone, and another through her bottom lip. It was unusual, he thought, to be attracted to the aspects of her visage that society thought of as flaws, but he knew that each of those scars held a story more fascinating than the one that could be told on a page.

‘ _What other languages do you speak_?’

‘ _I also speak German, Italian, and some Spanish. English too, of course_.’

‘ _Ah, you’re a polyglot._ ’ Barry smiled, clearly as impressed as Owen had been by the list of languages on her resume. ‘ _And English is your first language_?’

‘ _No, Russian is, actually_.’

‘ _I was wondering if your family was Russia but I did not want to assume..._ ’

Owen shook himself mentally, following Timothy, Elizaveta, and Barry to the helicopter. The buffeting of the blades whipped at their hair and clothes as they approached and the Murphys ushered them on board. They shook hands with Elizaveta, Owen, and Barry, in turn, the whirr of the engines too loud to speak over – they’d be in touch via sat-phone shortly after the group landed.

On board, the three settled into their seats, a group of four facing each other. The cabin was comfortably furnished and soundproofed, allowing Barry and Elizaveta to resume their conversation as the helicopter began its ascent. Owen listened with interest, taking in the dulcet, rhythmic tones of her voice as much as the words she spoke; a good thing, too, because Barry soon turned to face him.

‘Owen, she speaks French like a native,’ he said, grinning. Owen did his best to ignore the wink his friend threw at him when Elizaveta leaned back in her seat to include him in the conversation.

‘That’s a compliment coming from him,’ Owen said, ‘he tells me off because I don’t roll my ‘r’s enough.’

Elizaveta chuckled. ‘You know each other, I assume.’

Owen glanced at Barry, the two sharing a smirk. He shrugged casually. ‘You could say we go back a way.’

‘I read the files the Murphys gave me about you both. You worked at Jurassic World together with the velociraptor pack?’

‘Yes, but before that, we were both in the navy.’

‘Respective navies,’ Barry corrected, ‘we were both team leaders in a joint training exercise between America and France in the mid-2000s, competing in games. I have to warn you, Professor, Owen has quite the competitive streak.’

Owen arched an eyebrow at his friend. ‘And you don’t?’

Barry grinned, holding up his hands, though he didn’t deny the accusation. Owen could tell the man was still eager to cause him grief, to continue chiding and taunting him for his description of Elizaveta’s appearance, his eyes shining with mischief. Owen planned to wipe that cheeky smirk off his face the first chance he got. Barry was a natural charmer – he often greeted women by pressing a kiss to their knuckles – but his lips had lingered on Alexis’ skin longer than was entirely appropriate, and when they’d said goodbye to the Murphys he’d covered her hand with both of his, again lingering as if to hold onto the moment.

‘Please, call me Elizaveta. We’ll be spending a lot of time together over the next three weeks. I dare say the repetition of the formal title will become exhausting by the end of the day, let alone the end of this venture.’ She offered Barry a small smile before she continued. ‘The Murphys sent me digital copies of your reports. I am impressed by both the information you gathered and your attention to detail, and quite surprised that you have not moved to publish your findings.’

‘Academia is not really our scene.’

‘That’s the response I would expect from ex-navy men but it does not invalidate the coherence and value of your findings for the palaeontological world.’

Owen contemplated her words for a moment, feeling like she’d just made a backhanded comment about their intelligence, but there was no malice in her gaze. His stomach churned again as he realised he was just as guilty of selective hearing as the opportunistic cab driver. This woman had been nothing but polite to them yet he was still making assumptions about her, expecting her to be as cold and inhuman as some of _InGen_ ’s former scientists when, in reality, she was sincerely commending their work. She even offered another smile before she reached down to her satchel, pulling out a folder emblazoned with _InGen_ – the research mission files, he realised. She was tasked with overseeing every detail of the next three weeks, with making the ultimate decision of whether or not Isla Sorna would get initial approval to be a research location.

Owen cleared his throat, trying to cover his lengthy paused before he said, ‘maybe… well, if this trip goes well we’ll think about it in the future. What do you think Barry?’

‘I think if the Prof– Elizaveta thinks all our scribbles are worth publishing, it’s best to listen to her. She has a lot more experience than us.’

 _Well, that’s an understatement_ , Owen thought, remembering the long list of works on her resume. He’d looked up some of the articles she’d written and contributed to; though she spoke in the same formal, straight-forward manner as her writing, there was warmth in both her voice and actions that did not come across on the page. The smiles she offered – though guarded and constrained by an obvious sense of professionalism – radiated sincerity. He settled back in his seat, watching as she rummaged in her bag again, pulling out a notebook.

Elizaveta glanced up at him, catching him in his moment of curiosity. His brow furrowed, the sunlight streaming through the window highlighting the green flecks in his hazel gaze. He startled the moment he realised he’d been caught, forcing himself to lean back, almost reclining as he tried to act nonchalant.

‘Your notes?’ he asked, waving casually at the open page.

‘The most important ones.’

Owen smirked, glancing at Barry. ‘Our notes really are scribble compared to these.’

She offered a shrug. ‘Everyone has a different style. I follow my father’s. He believes a notebook should complement your thoughts: if your notebook is organised, so too is your mind.’

Organised was an understatement. Unlike the battered satchel, the leather-bound notebook was pristine, and as she flicked through the pages he caught sight of fine, sharp cursive looping across the page. Drawings were intertwined between the text, startlingly accurate diagrams of locations, skeletons, and dinosaurs drawn with the same fine-point ink pen.

Owen was already starting to lean closer again. ‘Is that English?’ he asked, reaching out to lay a finger on the page. He couldn’t discern a recognisable letter among the string of sharp lines, but there was nothing beneath to indicate a scribbled out mistake.

‘Russian cursive. This simply says ‘the _Compsognathus Curiosicarius_ is a predatory species of dinosaur’,’ she said, tracing her finger below the words. She chuckled and the husky sound caressed his ears, turning to a quiet purr that lingered in the air around him. His eyes were drawn to her mouth, to the jagged scar that cut through her bottom lip. He found himself wondering how she’d been wounded severely enough for there to be nerve damage; her honeyed lips paled as they stretched in a smile but the section around the scar remained a darker shade, the flesh plumper.

He was so focused on her lips he almost startled when her hand bumped his. He pulled back, reclining in his seat again, forcing his gaze up to her eyes. He resisted the urge to clear his throat before he said, ‘and that’s funny?’

Her smile remained; though she seemed unfazed by the brief touch, he felt her gaze as if he were under a microscope. For a moment, he wondered if it was the intensity of her gaze that sent a shiver down his spine or the lingering guilt for misjudging her, assuming her cold, when humour sparkled in the gold flecks in her eyes as she said, ‘writing notes in Russian cursive is a great way to keep my graduate students on their toes.’

A practical joke – the last thing he’d expected from such a straight-laced Harvard Professor. Owen smirked, shaking off the shiver on his spine. He shouldn’t have been surprised; after all, she’d dashed every one of his preconceived notions about her so far. Why not this one?

It’d been too long since he’d been around a woman, he realised, especially one as attractive as Elizaveta. Add that to the fact that everything about her was intense, and he realised his hormones were simply magnifying the barest touch and briefest look.

 _Got to get that under control_ , he thought, _or this is going to be a long three weeks_.


	4. Isla Sorna: The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...Elizaveta watched him leave, his long strides carrying him out of sight in mere seconds. Owen had agreed to join this scouting mission, but why? Clearly, the traumatic events on Isla Nublar still affected him. He’d kept his posture casual while examining the map but she’d seen the strain in his face, the tightness in his broad shoulders. His posture was guarded, his arms a physical barrier to the onslaught of conflicting emotions in his mind..._

* * *

**Chapter Four  
** Isla Sorna: The Arrival

The helicopter bounced hard along a stretch of turbulence, the sudden jolt startling the team of three from their respective thoughts. Elizaveta looked up from her notebook; the hum of the engines remained, a soothing sound that had acted like white noise, allowing her to focus on the pages. She glanced down at her watch, noting the time. The flight had been smooth, conditions near perfect for travel, and she realised they had to be nearing their destination. She closed her notebook and her folder, tucking them back into her satchel before she turned her attention to the window. She’d seen pictures of Isla Sorna despite the secrecy _InGen_ shrouded the island in and had examined every inch of the map enclosed in the folder nestled safely in her bag, but no amount of research could prepare her with the reality.

Catching sight of Isla Sorna for the first time made Elizaveta thankful that her parents had urged her to accept _InGen_ ’s proposal, and that she’d listened to their encouragement. Both of the 2015 digs she’d run for Harvard were in hot, desert areas – one in west Egypt, the other in southeastern Tunisia. As satisfying as the work was, she still wore the stark tan lines almost a year later, and even the memory of the blistering heat made sweat slick her brow. Despite knowing how humid it would feel among the trees, it was almost a relief to see that lush forests covered most of the land, coating the numerous peaks on and around Punta Tiburon like moss coats a rock, softening the sharpness of the land beneath, making the topography appear more like rolling hills. The green of the foliage was made richer by the bright beaches along the coast, the sand shining in the late morning sun.

A crackling sounded over the speakers, followed by the pilot announcing their landing area: the southernmost point on the island, Punta Bueno. Elizaveta’s gaze followed the coastline, and as they came around the point her eyes fell upon _InGen_ ’s new Isla Sorna base of operation. Set deep into the hill face overlooking Canal Ondo was a series of neutral, stone coloured buildings that formed a veritable fortress. Elizaveta remembered the detailed designs incorporated in the dossier; each section was made of heavy concrete and reinforced with steel, and even the narrow windows were specially made of a thick, explosion resistant glass. Combine the two together, and a wall could withstand a direct hit from a loaded semi. Elizaveta had been sceptical at first – she’d seen documentation about the damage done in past to buildings designed by _InGen_ for similar purposes – but then she’d seen the test tapes.

Wall, three. Semis, zero.

The pilot set the helicopter down on the landing pad, a small concrete patch concealed by trees situated above the research centre. The crew rushed into motion as the helicopter powered down, two workers beginning to unload the gear before the blades stopped turning.

Elizaveta led the way off the vehicle, stepping out into the sun before Owen and Barry. As she stepped foot onto the smooth concrete of the landing pad she was hit by a rush of crisp air that whipped at her shirt collar, a hint of salt rising up from the sea just beyond the crest of the hill behind them.

The crew worked efficiently, unloading the final supplies into a service elevator a few steps down from the landing pad. The three team members only needed to carry their personal gear as one of the crew members – Delia, her name was, Elizaveta recalled – led them down the slope towards the top entrance of the research complex.

‘It’s a bit of a maze in here. It’s all signed, but I’ll escort you to the living quarters as it’s your first time at the centre; they’re towards the base of the building,’ Delia said as she led them inside. She pointed out the main sections of the complex – maintenance and power room, supply room, communications and monitoring room, the labs – as they wove down narrow sets of stairs and along clean, white-walled corridors.

They entered the living quarters through an open plan kitchen and lounge. Delia paused at the threshold, allowing them to move into the open room as she said, ‘I’ll leave you to settle in. If you need anything, we’ll be on site for the next three hours. You’ll find all the tracking and communication technology you requested from Miss Murphy in your designated rooms.’

‘Thank you, Delia,’ Elizaveta said.

The young woman smiled. ‘Anytime, Professor. Enjoy your stay.’

Left to their own devices, the three took in the living quarters. Beyond the shared area, there was a shared bathroom with multiple stalls and a laundry, and a number of individual rooms. The first three were indeed labelled; Elizaveta Volkov, Owen Grady, and Barry Jolivet were listed below the room numbers. Inside, each room appeared compact and sparsely furnished at first glance, but the space in the identical ‘pods’ was used wisely. A desk folded down from one of the walls, a matching foldable chair unclipped from the wall beneath it, and the single bed could be folded up and into the wall to reveal that the base was, in fact, a couch. To make it a double room, one simply had to fold a second single bed down from a second hole in the wall above the first.

Elizaveta entered her room – the first one along the narrow corridor – eager to unpack her essentials and investigate the rest of the complex. Although they would be spending a number of nights at camps around the island, this room was home for the next three weeks, a private space of her own. She spent a half-hour making herself comfortable in the small room. She tested the bed, pleased to discover that the mattress soft but supportive. Next, she found all the light switches and power points before she organised her clothes in the compact wardrobe. Finally, she folded down the cleverly designed workspace. Tucked into the wall-space behind the desk she found a high-tech watch with tracking and alert technology, a compact computer with a detachable keyboard, and an ear-piece with excellent long-range communication capabilities.

She strapped on the watch and inserted the earpiece, wiggling it until it settled comfortably into position. Supposedly, the watch had a five-day battery life and was practically indestructible.

She looked forward to testing those facts.

Elizaveta tucked the computer under her arm, heading out into the common area to explore. She found the kitchen well-stocked, a comfortable group dining area, and an entertainment area. Attached, she found a meeting room with a large interactive screen she could control from a variety of hand-held devices. She brought up a map of the island using the compact computer, watching dots – dinosaurs – move around on the screen in their various habitats. She felt as she did when Alexis first showed her this very map. She could see every creature on the island, large and small, all tracked in real time. Her eyes roamed over the detailed map, over every green, yellow, orange and red dot. Nearby, she could see a group of herbivores roaming in a field. Others were even closer to the research base, marked by green dots which winked on the screen. Mingled among them were yellows and oranges – scavengers and small predators. Her eyes roamed further, towards the centre of the island where dense forests and deep rivers dominated the landscape.

And where predators clearly ruled.

‘This is where you disappeared to.’

Elizaveta glanced over her shoulder. Owen was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. He’d stripped his light jacket, revealing a tightly fitted grey t-shirt, his bronzed arms on display. She’d barely finished her examination before he strode closer, joining her in front of the screen.

‘I’ve got to admit, this was a good idea,’ he said, eyes darting over the screen as Elizaveta’s had, ‘what else can we see?’ 

Elizaveta tapped on her handheld device, entering a few commands. They only had to wait a moment before the data appeared on the screen. The mapping information for all large predators showed their hunting areas and roaming patterns, a clear trend emerging. She could see now why _InGen_ chose this location for the research base; it was rare for large predators to enter a one-kilometre radius around the building, let alone approach it. The last instance occurred two months previous when a pair of Carnotaurus came within two-hundred metres of the base before backtracking, likely chasing quick-footed prey.

‘There is years of tracking data,’ she said, flicking through the patterns year by year from the mid-2000s, ‘construction for this research facility started six weeks after the Murphys seized control. The site was chosen based on migratory trends of the animals throughout the year–’ she pointed at their location– ‘and this part of the island has the least amount of predatory activity. The amount of thought that has gone into this is impressive, especially considering the speed with which the Murphys acted. They must have been planning this long before the takeover.’

‘After all the last minute plans I saw _InGen_ carry out, that’s reassuring to hear.’

Elizaveta glanced at him. He’d folded his arms loosely over his chest again, his large biceps stretching the short sleeves. He’d shifted closer to her to get a better look at the screen, so close she swore she could feel heat radiating from his skin. Though his expression seemed neutral, inquisitive, there was a furrow in his brow, an impression of the anger ingrained in his mind.

‘Is Barry far off joining us?’

‘He’s just in the kitchen.’ He seemed to shake himself from a thought, the hard edge in his jaw softening. ‘I’ll fetch him.’

Elizaveta watched him leave, his long strides carrying him out of sight in mere seconds. Owen had agreed to join this scouting mission, but why? Clearly, the traumatic events on Isla Nublar still affected him. He’d kept his posture casual while examining the map but she’d seen the strain in his face, the tightness in his broad shoulders. His posture was guarded, his arms a physical barrier to the onslaught of conflicting emotions in his mind.

Before Elizaveta could turn the matter over further in her thoughts, Owen returned with Barry in tow. The Frenchman had apparently wasted no time getting acquainted with the contents of the cupboards and was complaining to Owen about subpar baking dishes and a distinct lack of appropriate, non-stick safe utensils.

They sat down at the table, the men on one side and Elizaveta on the other, controlling the screen. As with Owen, she walked Barry through the specifics of the system and the content they could access. As the designated technical man, he would be responsible for providing the preliminary assessment of the tracking systems.

‘I never thought I would complement _InGen_ on their security systems after–’ Barry bit down on his lip– ‘anyway, even I have to admit that this is clever. Well thought out, even.’

_This is becoming a problem_ , Elizaveta thought. They’d both been making backhanded comments about _InGen_ for the past half-hour as she briefed them on the systems and their personal tech. Though small, the smart-watches and ear-pieces they wore could very well save their lives, something they seemed to have forgotten as they traded insults about _InGen_. Much as Elizaveta had hoped to avoid it, she knew she had no choice.

It was time to put her professor hat on.

Elizaveta cleared the screen suddenly, placing the handheld computer aside. ‘I know you both have a history with _InGen_ ,’ she said, drawing their gazes, ‘I’m not going to ask you to forget that. I only ask you to be as objective as you can. For the next three weeks, we hold _InGen_ ransom – the company is relying on us for approval, for justification of millions of dollars of investment – but we are also the gatekeepers of endless research opportunities. And while we are a team, I am the head of this operation; I have the final say on the fate of this facility, regardless of any disagreements between the three of us.’ She paused a moment, letting that fact sink in before she added, ‘I have the capacity to compartmentalise if necessary. You might think me cold and calculating because of it, but it’s proved a useful tool in my career. I won’t bury such an opportunity because either of you harbours negative perceptions of _InGen_ ’s former organisational structure. You joined this team and you’re taking the money that comes with this job, so I expect you to treat it with the same respect and work ethic you would any other.’

Elizaveta didn’t blink as she cast her gaze over the two men. Silence weighed heavily on the room after the last echo of her words faded. Barry shuffled awkwardly in his seat. Owen, though, kept his sharp, bright gaze on her; his teeth were clenched behind the hard line of his lips, his arms folded so tightly over his chest that the muscles in his forearm strained as if trying to burst forth.

She was used to the look, that burning urge to challenge her authority that smouldered in Owen’s gaze; she’d seen it in the eyes of her students and colleagues time and time again when she’d been forced to lay down the law. At this moment he probably wanted nothing more than to tell her where to shove her work ethic, but her job had never been to make friends. Make connections, sure. But friends? That was the worst kind of workplace diplomacy and the first to collapse in the face of hardship.

‘Do we understand each other?’ she asked finally.

‘ _Oui_ ,’ Barry said, ‘excuse our glibness. I’m sure you can understand humour is… easier. But you are right: we’ve been unprofessional.’

Elizaveta acknowledge Barry’s words with a sincere nod before she said, ‘Owen?’

‘Yes,’ he said, a rough edge in the word that she suspected arose from his restraint, ‘loud and clear, Volkov.’

He rose from his chair, voicing his desire to finish unpacking and give Barry some peace to get acquainted with the technical systems before he excused himself. Elizaveta didn’t watch him leave this time; she was too focused on the strange tightness deep in her belly, the knot in her gut that twisted and churned at the use of her last name. She’d liked how _Elizaveta_ had rolled off his tongue on the flight over, the way he seemed to savour her name as he learnt how to pronounce it.

She shook the sensation off. _No matter,_ she thought, refocusing on the screen, _we have a job to do_.

* * *

Owen collapsed onto his bed, the frame creaking at the sudden weight that fell upon it. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pulling at his cheeks as if he could drag away the conflicting thoughts that rattled around his brain. He was incensed. Sitting in that meeting room chair he’d had flashbacks to Hoskins sitting across from him, had heard Hoskins’ voice, the self-righteous tone that accompanied every harebrained scheme to use the velociraptors.

Elizaveta _wasn_ ’ _t_ like Hoskins at all, he reminded himself, and logically he knew she could never be like Hoskins. She did not speak out of greed nor the desire to use the creatures inhabiting the Jurassic islands for her own gain. She saw an opportunity for all, for learning about these creatures and from them. She wanted them to be safe, as he did. And, much as her demeanour felt outwardly stony and cold, he sensed that she wanted as desperately to see that dream fulfilled, even if it was buried deep beneath her professional demeanour.

Owen’s hands fell down beside him; his chest still heaved, his brow slick with sweat. As the anger drained he stripped away the memories from his thoughts, replaying her words in his mind. She used her tongue like a whip, lashing him with each word, unafraid to wield the authority vested in her. She’d held his gaze throughout, honey-brown eyes burning with a determination that he thought might set his blood ablaze.

Intense, he realised, didn’t come close to defining Elizaveta.

He felt his stomach drop, heavy as a stone. He muttered a curse, realising now that his confliction rose from his mind’s most base, instinctual reactions. He needed to distance himself from this attraction. _Fast_. No good could come of lusting after a hard-arse professor-type like her, especially when she was practically his boss. Hell, she’d said it pretty clearly: for the next three weeks, she _was_ his boss.

A harsh chuckle escaped him. _I’ve got a type_ , he thought wryly, clapping his hands over his face to scrub at his stubbled cheeks again. Claire was much like Elizaveta – both women were headstrong, intelligent, and beautiful – but while Elizaveta’s commanding nature was resolute, made all the more clear by her stern gaze and her sharp features, there was a delicateness to Claire in her soft alabaster skin, in her almost ethereal beauty. He couldn’t deny that he’d often thought of her as a finely crafted porcelain doll, one he feared would break in his hands at the smallest careless touch. It was unfair, he knew – after all, Claire was an shrewd business woman and she’d proven beyond a doubt that she was good in a crisis – but the image had persisted in his mind, and once they’d escaped Isla Nublar the sparks lit between them in the intensity of the moment had quickly faded to embers which the mediocrity of everyday life soon extinguished.

Owen bit his tongue as if to bite back the thought. Hard as it might be to avoid comparisons between the two women, analysing Claire in such a way was at best an inadequate assessment of the complexities of her personality and at worst… He shook his head, angry with himself for letting the thoughts take hold of his mind. After what they’d been through together, what they had survived, he still cared deeply for her. It was a love that would always linger in his heart even now when the flame of their romance had long been extinguished.

He released a heavy sigh that bordered on a groan. Conflicted was, perhaps, an understatement, he thought as his lingering resentment at Elizaveta’s tone for stirring up so many conflicting feelings – fair as it was for her to use it – was lost between the growing tendrils of desire. His past working relationships with authority figures had never been particularly stable, to say the least, but adding the unknown element of lust wouldn’t help. 

Owen sat bolt upright when a rapid _tap tap_ _tap_ sounded at his door. He shot up, making himself look busy before he said, ‘come in.’

The door swung open. ‘You must be hungry, Owen. Come, I’m making lunch,’ Barry said, encouraging him with a wave, ‘some of the utensils might be subpar but Timothy wasn’t lying when he said the food was well stocked.’

If Barry sensed Owen’s inner turmoil he didn’t show a hint of it as he leant on the door, waiting patiently for Owen to finish packing his clothes away. He chatted about the intricacies of the mapping and monitoring system, clearly impressed by the lengths the Murphys’ research and development team had gone to in recent months to improve on innovations made at Jurassic World. Barry had just started to explain the numerous functions of their watches when they finally entered the common room; a large dining table and an impressive kitchen was set up over the long rectangular space, each section flowing into the other before reaching the living quarters.

Elizaveta was sitting by the window in a plush scoop chair, absentmindedly nibbling on a sandwich as she stared out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered an uninterrupted view of the waterway below the research base. She seemed entirely unaffected by their earlier confrontation. If it could even be called a confrontation. Maybe ‘disagreement’ was a better word? He shook his head, Perhaps he was reading into it too deeply, he thought. After all, the hierarchy of their positions was clear, and it seemed unlikely that an experienced professor would feel a need to throw around her authority without due cause.

Barry snapped Owen out of his musing when he waved a plate under Owen’s nose. Owen’s stomach growled insistently, grumbling about the meagre breakfast he’d scoffed hours before. He accepted the plate, uncaring of what lay upon it beyond the fact that it smelled delicious.

With food in hand, he wandered over to the window, standing a few feet away from Elizaveta’s chair. He nibbled thoughtfully on his lunch, realising it was one of Barry’s famous roast beef sandwiches, a favourite of his when they’d worked together on Isla Nublar. Below them, a herd of sauropods was striding across the deepest part of the river, their long, heavy steps sending tall waves in every direction. Parasaurs and triceratops walked along the edge, some stopping to drink the fresh, clean water that flowed lazily towards the sea as a family of stegosaurus broke through the tree line and approached. He’d forgotten how wondrous it was to see these creatures in the flesh, roaming the earth as if millions of years hadn’t passed since they’d been wiped from existence.

Owen was so focused on the scene below he almost dropped his plate when Elizaveta said suddenly, ‘it really is beautiful here.’

Owen glanced at her. Her eyes were still transfixed on the world beyond the glass, showing him her face in profile, the soft glow of the sun that bathed the room dancing on her skin and highlighting the pale scars on her face. He found himself wondering again what had caused each mark but he bit his tongue before a question could form. He glanced away, taking another bite of his sandwich and staring down at the scene beyond the window, resisting the urge to trace her features again.

‘It is,’ he finally agreed.

‘A part of me could sit here all day and simply watch but I also find myself eager to step foot on the island proper for the first time. Is that how you felt the first time you came to a Jurassic island?’

‘It’s overwhelming,’ Owen agreed, pleased that the casual tone of their conversation allowed him to look at her without feeling as if he was leering awkwardly. Elizaveta was standing now, leaning close to the tall window. For a moment, he thought she might place her hand on the glass as if to check that it was, in fact, glass and not a screen, but her arms stayed tucked neatly at her sides.

‘If not for the fact that we still have preparations to complete I’d be tempted to throw myself out into that water with them,’ she said with a subtle jerk of her chin. Owen followed the movement just in time to watch a long-necked Brachiosaurus pause mid-way across the river to dip its head down for a drink.

Jurassic World had been an exciting place, full of entertainment and energy. Here on Isla Sorna, it was peaceful, a section of paradise captured and preserved by _InGen_ that was almost entirely untouched by humans apart from a few early misadventures and necessary research. Much as his mind begged him to be wary of the lulling effect of the island’s wonders he couldn’t help but bask in the beautiful scene as Elizaveta saw it – if only for a moment.

* * *

Elizaveta hung up the call. She’d spent more than an hour wandering around the research centre to tick off a few important boxes in her assessment, followed by a further hour confirming the final details about provisions and equipment with Alexis. So far, she was certain the facility was adequately equipped for short-term research endeavours and confident it would handle either larger groups – say, up to twenty people – or long-term endeavours of small groups without the need for intervention or resupply which could interrupt research gathering.

She returned to the common area shortly after dusk, the automatic shutters sliding into place over the windows, making the modern facility feel that much more like a fortress. Barry beckoned her over; he and Owen had laid out a large map over the dining table.

‘Something you said at lunch got me thinking,’ Owen said, glancing up at Elizaveta as she joined them at the table, ‘about the best ways to get around the island, make the most of this trip.’

After delivering such stern words that morning, Elizaveta had expected it would take much longer for him to warm to her again, but she was relieved to see him relax over lunch. He’d eventually joined her beside the window, settling into the other plush chair and sharing his recollection of the first time he’d laid eyes on Isla Nublar in person.

Any work environment was tense; add the complexities of research and the danger of living, breathing dinosaurs, and it became all the more important to develop a mutual respect for each other and understanding of their role in the team, particularly when on a tight schedule. Three weeks sounded like a long time but Elizaveta didn’t do things in half measures. She’d spent the afternoon compiling a list of facility and equipment checks she wanted to complete as part of her assessment, a list almost as long as her resume. 

Elizaveta grabbed her satchel from the nearby couch, pulling out a few markers. She placed them on the map. ‘I’m sure _InGen_ can spare a map or two,’ she said as she leant over the table beside Owen, staring down at the detailed topography.

He shrugged, picking up a marker and circling their location in black. ‘If we’re to minimise our impact on the landscape and animals, we’ll need to choose our travel options wisely. I’d suggest for these areas–’ he drew a line around a few forest sections near the coast, not far from their location– ‘that we’d be best to take a Jeep along the beach and then move around on foot depending on what we need to do. Anywhere else and we’ll want either the bikes or the Jeeps and to follow these roads.’ He used the black marker to highlight them before he switched to a red pen. ‘And we’ll need to avoid these areas for now. Like you said earlier, they appear to be the territories of the larger predators, so the middle of the island is a no-go zone as far as I’m concerned. It’s too dangerous to be wandering around. No matter how good these warning systems are, we wouldn’t have a hope in hell of outrunning a Tyrannosaur or Carnotaurus if they caught our scent.’

‘We need to get a feel for the area,’ Barry said, holding out his hand for the markers, ‘if we start ‘ere, like you said–’ he marked an area near the research base and extended a line to the closest camp– ‘we can cross the sandbar at low tide in the morning, cover ground during the day, set up cameras and viewing platforms in some of these tall trees, and then assess the resources in the research camp in the south-west corner. The predators stay away from the beach, too, so we’re likely to ‘ave a better chance of observing without ‘aving to engage.’

Elizaveta traced his marker line, calculating the distance, the basic topography, and the dinosaurs they would be most likely to encounter. Their logic added up. ‘We’ll take a Jeep at seven, then.’


	5. Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...The image burned into Owen’s mind of Elizaveta Volkov as the stoic, hard-arse professor fractured a little more, breaking down with each small glimpse he caught of her, of her passion. Her eyes sparkled in the sun, the warm chestnut brown melting to gold with her excitement, and Owen reminded himself again that while this was all very familiar for him, she’d spent her life studying bones – well, rock, really. Seeing these creatures she so adored in the flesh was a true revelation, one that certainly deserved her thrilled response..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this fic earlier in the year, Barry had no canon surname. One has since been revealed (Sembène) following _Jurassic World: The Fallen Kingdom_ ’s release, but for continuity’s sake, I have decided to retain Jolivet.

* * *

  **Chapter Five**  
Witness 

Elizaveta opened her eyes, staring up at the plain white ceiling above her as the last moments of the dream slipped away. She blinked – once, twice – before she closed her eyes again. She felt the slow rise of her chest, the calming weight in her lungs as she drew a few deliberate breaths, the all too familiar face finally fading. Three years… almost three years later and her heart still thundered in her chest when she woke from the nightmare, blood rushing in her ears and her chest heaving on caught breaths.

She pushed the covers aside, sitting up as the faint feeling in her head faded. She glanced at the small bedside shelf. Her phone screen was blank but the watch beside it glowed in the pitch black, windowless room. It blinked slowly at her as it clicked over to five AM. She’s awakened well before her alarm, yet knew she had no hope of catching more sleep, her mind already working in preparation for the day ahead.

She threw the covers aside and went about her morning routine, though she did linger in the shower longer than usual, not willing to trust the water supply at the next camp to be sufficient for bathing as well as drinking. She’d made that mistake once early in her study and she wouldn’t do it again.

She loaded up a few final items into her pack and satchel before she eased into the dark hall lit only by a low strip of lights. The common room was dark and quiet, the heavy shielding still in place over the windows. The research centre was a veritable fortress, impervious to any threat a dinosaur – no matter how large – might pose. As comforting as the knowledge was she was still eager to open the metal blinds, staring out into the darkened valley below. It was quiet and still; the large sauropods and other herbivores and omnivores that had roamed the water’s edge lay somewhere quite in the nearby forest and grass, hidden in shadow for the final moments of the night.

The sky was edged with a soft glow, the periwinkle hue hinting at the coming day. She set her bags down and settled into the chair she’d occupied for much of the day before, watching the dawn rise lazily over the island. The hills turned a vibrant orange, the water sparkling as the first rays of sun spilt over the angular landscape, and finally, the trees began to stir as dinosaurs awakened all over the land.

She could easily have watched the scene for hours had she not been so eager to step foot upon the very soil she gazed upon. With a final long look down at a pair of sauropods emerging from the tree line along the water’s edge, she turned towards the kitchen. An espresso machine stood waiting for her on the bench, the screen waking as soon as she approached, a welcome message rolling across it in bright blue letters.

 _The Murphys sure know how to take care of their academics_ , she thought as she placed a mug below the spout. Soon the blissful smell of the strong, fresh brew filled the room as the machine prepared a long-black.

She took a tentative sip, then another, the gentle bitterness quickly making way as the smooth, more delicate flavours of the bean swept through. She turned, leaning against the counter as she savoured another mouthful. She opened her eyes only when she heard footsteps in the hall, the first signs of her expedition partners waking. She glanced at her watch; a long day lay ahead of them, and coffee, much as it delighted here senses, would not keep her going all day.

 _Let’s see if this pantry can handle an Italian-style breakfast_.

* * *

Owen stared into the mirror, turning his head from side to side. He rubbed his hands along the short stubble on his cheeks and jaw, deciding against a shave – he’d neaten it up in a few days.

He finished drying off and preparing for the day, hoisting his pack onto his shoulder and adjusting the unfamiliar watch on his wrist. The moment he turned the handle to his room’s door his nostrils twitched, his stomach growling in earnest as he caught a whiff of something in the kitchen; apparently, Barry had beaten him out of bed for once.

Owen strolled towards the common area, a quip already on his tongue, but he gulped it back when he saw Elizaveta standing over the stove. He dropped his bag by the table, the sudden thump making her start with surprise. She glanced over her shoulder. She composed her features when she glanced over her shoulder at him but couldn’t hide how stiff her shoulders had become, her honeyed eyes sharp even though she offered a smile.

‘Morning,’ Owen said, as though he noticed nothing odd about her demeanour, pretending to be too distracted by the sizzling in the pan, ‘that smells fantastic.’ He offered his own smile and the tightness in her shoulders eased. ‘What’s for breakfast?’

‘Italian omelette,’ she replied, turning back towards the pan.

‘I thought you were Russian.’

She shrugged. ‘Food is universal.’ She glanced over her shoulder, and for a moment Owen thought he’d caught a _smirk_ on the Professor’s lips. ‘And I am quite a fan of Italian food... among other things.’

It _was_ a smirk. He sensed something unspoken behind the words, was tempted to pry with a carefully crafted question or two, but he resisted the urge, turning his attention to the coffee machine for a much-needed espresso. Staying tight-lipped didn’t keep his thoughts from straying, though, as he started to pull plates and cutlery out of drawers.

_Among other things…_

The words teased at his senses. Was she speaking of a lover? Elizaveta was a beautiful woman, able to captivate a person with her sharp wit and her warm, honey-brown eyes. It was hard to imagine a man or woman would be able to resist her if she beckoned them into her embrace. Even now as he watched her finishing breakfast preparations – her hair tumbling over her shoulders as the dark waves dried, her nimble fingers sweeping the strands behind her ear – he found his thoughts wandering.

He shook himself mentally, composing his features when she turned to face him. She held out her hand for a plate and he managed to muster the coordination to pass one over, scolding himself all the while for letting his hormones get the better of him. Hadn’t he only had this conversation with himself yesterday?

It was a relief when she handed back a laden plate, the delicious waft of spices and herbs tantalising his senses.

‘Barry better hurry up or his will be cold,’ she said as she prepared her own serve, waving Owen over to the table. They sat down opposite each other and Owen took a few absent bites of his meal, enjoying the bursts of flavour from the tomatoes and herbs. The caffeine from the strong espresso was starting to kick in, his senses waking fully, curiosity waking with it. He kept his head down and focused on his meal, daring to sneak a few glances at Elizaveta. She’d turned her attention to the handheld beside her, and he allowed himself to trace his gaze over her face, lingering on the pale scars for a moment before he took in the rest of her visage. She wore a plain, khaki coloured button down shirt like she had the day before; it was curious, he thought, that she’d buttoned it all the way up to her neck, but she’d rolled the sleeves up part way to her elbows.

He found himself looking for more scars, wondering what other stories her skin may hint at, but the tanned expanse of her arms was smooth, interrupted only by the watch on her wrist. His wandering gaze was only broken when Barry strolled into the room, clearly eager to investigate the delicious scent of breakfast wafting through the halls.

‘Good morning,’ he said cheerily, ‘breakfast smells wonderful, Elizaveta.’

‘How do you know I didn’t cook it?’ Owen asked as Barry began to heap the last of the omelette onto a plate.

Barry pointed the spatula at him. ‘Because you could burn water, my good friend.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic. My cooking isn’t that bad,’ Owen muttered, returning his attention to the last morsels of his breakfast.

‘My life flashed before my eyes last time I ate something you cooked,’ Barry said, settling himself at the table, ‘it was horrifying.’

Elizaveta chuckled at the remark.  

‘My cooking will seem like a gourmet feast after we spend the next week eating packaged rations,’ Owen said, pleased when Barry grimaced, ‘yeah, see. You’re already thinking about how good my pancakes are compared to powdered eggs and pasty, watery oats.’

‘Let’s focus on the day ahead, shall we. I made breakfast to prepare us for our travels, not to start an argument,’ Elizaveta said, rising from the table, ‘we’re leaving in twenty minutes. I expect you’ll both be ready.’  

The two men bit their tongues as Elizaveta cleared her plate, grabbed her bags, and left the room to start loading the Jeep. The moment Barry was sure she was out of earshot, he turned all this attention to Owen.

‘I caught you,’ he said animatedly, ‘you were staring at her.’

Owen grit his teeth, refusing to take the bait. Clearly, Barry was very pleased with himself, but Owen wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of gloating. ‘Maybe. I guess you could say I was staring at her the say way you were staring at Alexis Murphy yesterday.’

Barry almost choked on his breakfast and Owen’s eyebrows almost shot off his forehead. ‘I _knew_ it! You _lingered_ ,’ Owen hissed, pointing a finger at him accusingly, ‘you’ve been giving me shit for weeks because I called Elizaveta beautiful–’

‘Quiet–’

‘–but you’ve got the hots for _InGen_ ’s new CEO!’

‘Just–’ Barry raised a hand pleadingly– ‘yes, yes, I do find her attractive. I admit it. Stop!’

Owen opened his mouth as if to start again, laughing at how stricken Barry’s face became. ‘See? It’s not fun being on the receiving end of the taunting, is it?’

‘Point made,’ Barry muttered, though he did smack Owen playfully on the arm, ‘we better hurry up. We shouldn’t keep the Professor waiting.’  

* * *

Elizaveta settled into the passenger seat of the Jeep as Barry started the engine, completely oblivious to the exchange that had occurred between the two men only fifteen minutes previous. Owen sat in the back, his broad frame taking up a large section of the wide bench seat. He felt rather pleased with himself; he expected Barry would stop with the regular jeering as long as he kept himself in check, which meant no more ogling the attractive Professor, tempting as it was.

Resolved, he settled into his seat. Outwardly, he seemed relaxed, but he had no illusions as to the danger they might face that day, and when Elizaveta glanced back she saw one hand resting on the rifle that lay across his lap.

They’d timed their departure perfectly, crossing the shallow waters at the narrowest part of the canal mouth at low tide. The specially modified vehicle easily handled the sticky sand, the suspension providing a relatively comfortable ride along the beach despite the sharp dips and rises in the low dunes.

Elizaveta leant against the windowless edge of the Jeep’s door. She scanned the line of trees at the top edge of the beach, catching glimpses of grazing herbivores. Even knowing that these creatures had existed on this island for many years – had thrived, in fact – it would take her time to get over seeing them in the flesh. She wanted to dive into research and begin exploring the island but they needed to set up the research camp which would be their base for the next few days to a week.

She was captivated by the view for the remainder of the drive, already itching to take notes about the grazing habits of _Stegosaurus Stenops_ when they finally reached the south-western base. Unfortunately, set up had to come first. Elizaveta had seen diagrams of each minor research base. Set into the shallow, sandy hill, the sandstone coloured concrete façade of this satellite facility blended with its surrounds.

Barry stopped the Jeep by the entrance once Elizaveta confirmed the area was free of predators. She hopped out of the Jeep, keying in the entrance code. The heavy steel door groaned as it shifted for the first time since the completion of construction, lights flickering on in the corridor. The walls were painted white, brightening the narrow space considerably, but it was still a tight squeeze with their gear.

‘Homey,’ Owen muttered as the heavy door shut automatically behind them.

Barry chuckled, the sound echoing eerily along the concrete. ‘It feels like a bunker.’

‘It essentially is,’ Elizaveta said, ‘we’d be quite safe from most forms of explosives, except perhaps an atomic weapon.’

‘That’s reassuring... I guess.’

It was a short walk down the gentle slope to the small common room that formed the central area of the compound, the storerooms, bedrooms, kitchen, and bathroom branching off the carefully organised space.

‘Let’s take some time to unpack,’ Elizaveta suggested, ‘it’s still early. We should still have time to set up an observation post this afternoon.’

They each went their separate ways. There were four bedrooms, allowing them to take one for their own. Elizaveta dropped her heavy pack inside the door to her chosen room, looking into the shadowy space. She flicked on the light but even the white walls did little to disguise the size of the room. It was similar in design to the rooms at the research base but much smaller and even more utilitarian, the two bunk beds bolted to the walls serving as the only furniture. Still, it was clean and warm. After spending so many nights in tents or rickety beds in middle-of-nowhere places during her career Elizaveta was thankful for the reassurance such a secure – if cramped – building provided.

She took a moment to grab the few things she might need for the day, packing them into a newly acquired backpack she’d found among the well-organised equipment room before she returned to the common room; her satchel, much as she preferred it, was not practical for the hike that lay ahead.

She spent a few minutes scoping out the place – minimalist kitchen, well stocked food supplies – before she found the communications room. She booted up the main computer and the large screen, checking the detailed map of their location. There were no predators nearby except for a handful of small scavengers. It would be safe to venture out after a quick break.

‘Professor?’

‘In here,’ she said, listening to Barry’s approaching footsteps, ‘I’m sure I’ve told you formalities aren’t necessary here.’

‘You ‘ave, but there’s something about how it rolls off the tongue,’ he said. He settled into the seat beside her, surveying the screen. ‘You want me here, no?’

‘Yes. As much as I might be confident that our wearables will notify us of any impending threats, I’d rather have someone keeping an eye on these–’ she pointed at a pair of tyrannosaurs a little over a mile north– ‘even if they are unlikely to stumble upon us. And you can confirm the observation post is up and running. It will be a good test.’

‘Show me where you’re going,’ Barry said, and with a few quick taps on the keyboard, the map appeared on the large screen, ‘I’ll track your progress from here.’

‘There’s a ridge not far from here,’ she said, circling the area with her finger, ‘perhaps a half mile hike. It’s steep, rocky, and over the last year its seen minimal dinosaur activity. From the satellite images, there might even be a rock ledge suited for an observation post.’

‘Difficult to reach, even if you know where to find it.’

‘Exactly,’ Elizaveta said, ‘it’ll take us most of the afternoon to get there, set up, and get back on foot, but it should give us a clear overlook of the end of the deep bay to our north.’

‘Owen better hope he’s kept his strength up,’ Barry said, a smirk playing on this lips, ‘climbing was never his favourite pursuit.’

Considering Elizaveta had seen him haul around some of their heaviest gear as if it was nothing more than a bag full of feathers, she was reasonably sure the former navy man and velociraptor handler wouldn’t find it difficult.

* * *

An hour later, Elizaveta and Owen set out from the camp, leaving Barry – a former Comms Officer – to monitor their progress as they began their hike up the steep terrain. Elizaveta hadn’t needed to convince Owen about the location; after hearing her explanation he’d agreed it was their best spot to do a test run. Little had been said since then, all attention turning to preparing for the short but difficult journey.

She checked her tablet, her location blinking blue on the screen. They were almost there, meaning the hardest part of their journey lay ahead. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the rocky ledge came into view, a stark grey cliff-face jutting out from the surrounding trees and forest growth.

‘Please tell me you packed the climbing gear,’ Owen said when they stopped above it, the hill leading down to the ledge so steep it seemed more like an extension of the cliff.

‘You don’t want to jump down?’ she asked. She chuckled at the concerned look he gave her, shrugging off her pack. ‘Rest a moment. I’ll set up.’

Owen was visibly relieved at the statement. ‘Carrying this much gear brings back memories of navy training.’ Free of the weight, he rolled his shoulders, an audible crack sounding from his neck as he twisted and stretched. Elizaveta snuck an appreciative glimpse as he shrugged off his vest, his broad chest and shoulders stretching his shirt with every action. The sun was beating down from above, the stifling and heavy heat of the jungle taking its toll on the white fabric, hinting at what lay beneath.

 _Ah, yes,_ _fieldwork does have more than a few perks_ , she thought, dragging her gaze away to focus on the task at hand, though a few pleasant images lingered in her mind.

Elizaveta dug out the necessary gear, fastening a rope securely to a sturdy tree trunk before preparing their rappelling gear. Wearing a harness wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she’d take a few minutes of wedgies over a fall.

‘I’ll go down first,’ she said, trying politely to keep her gaze away from him as he put his harness on. It took a bit of not-so-discreet adjusting, but he was finally ready. She stepped back from the relative safety of ridge, easing down the steep, slippery terrain, Owen keeping tabs on her progress with every step down.

‘Off rappel,’ she called, preparing for his descent before she said, ‘ready.’

‘Coming down,’ he said. He eased slowly into the descent, giving Elizaveta time to adjust to his weight. At a guess, he was at least thirty per cent heavier than the Professor, but she grit her teeth and held her ground, supporting him with surprising ease.

When he reached the ledge her cheeks were flushed, the pale scars standing out among the soft pink hue that lit her tanned skin. ‘You’re stronger than you look,’ he said.

The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he could snap them back up – it wasn’t exactly professional – but she smiled. ‘That’s an easy climb,’ she said, ‘hard is excavating a fossil while hanging from a three hundred foot cliff face after a two-day hike from the nearest town.’

Owen chuckled, thinking for a moment she was conjuring a scenario to emphasise her climbing experience, but he realised with no small amount of concern that she’d said ‘is’, not ‘would be’.

‘You’re not kidding, are you?’ he asked as he dropped the heavy pack for the final time, ‘you’ve actually done that?’

She chuckled again, a pleasant, velvety sound. ‘I’ve done a lot of crazy things in the name of research.’

Questions bombarded Owen’s thoughts, first of all being _what crazy things?_ and _is that how you got those scars?_ He shook them from his mind, reminding himself again that it was none of his business. He bit his tongue, focusing on Elizaveta’s instructions as they began to set up the observation post. It took some effort to drill into the stone, but they soon had the camera and GPS station set firmly in place; anchoring the solar panel was – thankfully – a much easier task which only required them to use a foul-smelling but effective concrete-like adhesive.

Elizaveta crouched beside the camera, brushing the dust off her gloves before she adjusted the camera to face her. She pressed the button on her earpiece. ‘Can you hear me, Barry?’

‘Loud and clear, Professor.’

‘We’re powering up now,’ she said, resisting the urge to correct him again. She couldn’t argue that it _did_ sound nice with his accent. ‘Can you see the GPS marker?’

‘I see it. The feed is connecting now,’ he confirmed, ‘wait, there it is! ‘Ello, Professor! I see you.’

‘Good, now let me just…’ she turned the camera, facing it out to the landscape below. Though the water’s edge was vacant it wouldn’t remain so, the bay frequented by omnivores and smaller predators looking for an easy meal of fish who’d followed the current into the bottleneck. ‘How’s that?’

‘Looks good. Clear image. I can see the reserve battery power is quite low, twenty-eight per cent.’

Elizaveta glanced up at the blue sky. ‘The sun will soon fix that.’

‘I’ll connect it to _InGen_ ’s servers and set up the power-save mode. It’ll activate whenever a dinosaur roams into the defined GPS parameters.’

‘Excellent. We’ll take a short break here and then be on our way.’

Elizaveta pressed the button again, muting the microphone in the earpiece. Owen had already taken a seat on the stone ledge, back against the cool slope they’d repelled down. She settled beside him, passing him a protein bar and a second bottle of water; he’d just drained the first, a few drops sliding down his stubbled chin and neck.

‘Not ideal weather for something so energetic.’

‘Better than rain,’ he said as he tore the wrapper of the bar and took a bite. They sat in companionable silence as they refreshed themselves. The hike back to the camp would be little easier than the hike up thanks to the steep incline and thick forest.

Elizaveta was finishing the last bite of her protein bar when her watch vibrated, one short sharp pulse against her wrist. She glanced at the screen and it flashed yellow. Owen looked at his watch too, saying ‘scavenger’, but she was already pulling her tablet from her bag and bringing up the map.

‘It’s a dilophosaurus,’ she said, shifting to kneel, her eyes still on the screen as she shuffled closer to the edge of the stone ledge, ‘and it’s just below us by the looks, not quite in range of the camera activation coordinates, but not far off.’

Owen followed her. They laid down on their stomachs, peering into the forest below. The tree line became thinner as it neared the water’s edge and they scanned between the thick foliage for signs of movement, catching sight of the dinosaur as it loped slowly through the underbrush.

‘Amazing,’ she whispered as she dragged her backpack closer, rummaging blindly in its depths for her pair of binoculars, not daring to take her eyes of the creature.

‘Just wait until you see a spino,’ Owen said, not bothering to find his own binoculars. She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t share her excitement after he’d spent his days at Jurassic World training velociraptors. She could hardly contain herself, though, as she gazed through the lenses. She’d so far felt overwhelmed at the sight of the herbivores and omnivores that dwelled near the main base, but to see her first predator in real life sent a thrill through her veins.

Their watches vibrated again, flashing yellow a second time. Before Owen could begin to look, Elizaveta was already pointing at another dilophosaurus coming from the other direction.

‘This may not be as dramatic as a large predator, but it is still an excellent opportunity,’ she said, unfazed by his casual tone, ‘dilophosaurus – true dilophosaurus – were much bigger than the specimens _InGen_ bred. These,’ she said, indicating the two separate animals roaming below, ‘are smaller, but their anatomical structure is almost identical to fossilised specimens.’

‘So you _can_ still study the predators here?’

‘Of course, just like you were able to study the velociraptors,’ she said, eyes lighting up when she looked at him, ‘while genetic coding was necessary to clone them – which is why the double crest has developed into a frill, and why they’ve gained the ability to spit a volatile substance – they are borne from the prehistoric blood of their ancestors.’ She looked positively thrilled. ‘I had my doubts about coming here, many of them, but this island has been shut off from the world for decades, a veritable wild, a prehistoric ecosystem which has developed and thrived with minimal interference from _InGen_ , and which has been completely off-limits to all but a select few individuals.’

‘And idiots,’ Owen muttered.

‘Unfortunately,’ Elizaveta said, remembering well the stories she’d heard from Dr Grant and Dr Malcom, ‘but they weren’t here for research. We are, and all the studies conducted so far on the dinosaurs resurrected through genetic matter were done on the captive animals of Jurassic World, ones which have never truly lived in a wild environment.’

Owen caught her line of thought. ‘Which would affect how they respond to situations,’ he said. He’d often wondered how much his intervention altered the characteristics and reactions of his raptor team, but he’d tried not to dwell on thoughts of Blue, Charlie, Delta, and Echo in recent months.

‘Exactly,’ she said, sounding pleased that he understood, ‘studying these specimens is as close as we can get to time-travelling back to the Mesozoic Era.’

They watched the two dinosaurs approach each other. There was more activity in the area now, a few smaller sauropods lingering in the trees on the opposite side of the water while a male parasaur – _p. cyrtocristatus_ , Elizaveta thought, judging by the short crest – crossed the depths of the bay to cool down.

‘It’s heading straight for one of the dilophosaurus,’ she said as it walked into the line of trees.

Owen wasn’t sure why that was so interesting. Dilos were aggressive but they generally avoided larger prey animals; he’d seen more than a few trampled in his time, and had even seen the aftermath of an encounter with an iguanadon’s spiked thumbs. Still, he glanced down at the tablet Elizaveta had placed between them. The parasaur was getting closer and closer to the dilophosaur, and the other dilophosaur coming from the other direction wasn’t far off either.

‘That dilophosaur is missing most of one of its arms, and its hand on the other.’

Now that piqued his curiosity. He dug out his binoculars too. ‘And it’s survived?’

‘The other one is injured too!’ she said, ‘it could be blind. Look at how slowly it moves.’

‘That’s pretty significant scarring on its face and neck,’ Owen added.

They watched as the two dilophosaurs closed in on the parasaur, unsure what to expect until the very last second when the dilophosaur with the damaged limbs strafed towards the parasaur, its call echoing up through the trees. The blind dilo responded instantly, changing course. Owen’s gaze was now riveted on the scene as the two flanked the parasaur, sprinting alongside it, pressing so close they bumped back and forth.

‘They’re guiding it,’ he said, watching as the parasaur struggled to dodge the trees. In its panic, it stumbled over the rough terrain and the sighted dilo sprinted ahead, turning at the last second to spit directly in the face of its prey.

‘They’re _hunting_ ,’ Elizaveta said, though she could hardly believe it.

Unable to see, the parasaur stopped in its tracks, lashing out with its tail, but the blind dilo had already dug its claws deep into the flesh of the parasaur’s shoulder, using its nose to feel its way before it bit down hard on the parasaur’s neck. The sighted dilo leapt up, clinging to the parasaur above the blind dilo’s head. They held on tight until the parasaur’s struggles slowed, the beast swaying before it dropped on its side.

Elizaveta pressed her earpiece. ‘Barry, did you see that?’

‘Sure did, Professor,’ he said, ‘I… I’ve never seen them do that before.’

‘That’s not typical scavenger behaviour, it’s more akin to what we’ve witnessed in advanced predators,’ Owen admitted, ‘ambush, flanking, leading; those are the kind of tactics I would expect a raptor to use.’

Elizaveta picked up the tablet, quickly pulling up records of the individuals. ‘Both males, separated by eighteen months in age. Born in the north west of the island. Multiple interactions, similar movement patterns.’ She spoke almost too fast for Owen and Barry to understand as she flicked through the data, processing it at an alarming rate. Finally, she sat bolt upright and Owen reached instinctively for her, her proximity to the cliff’s edge making him nervous, to say the least. She hardly seemed concerned, though, her focus on the two dilophosaurus below as she said, ‘this changes the very foundation of our understanding of these creatures. So far, we’ve thought dilophosaurus to be solitary creatures, scavengers, but we just witnessed two distinct individuals who aren’t a mated pair combine forces to hunt their prey, each compensating for the other’s physical deficiencies. This goes well beyond the theory that dilophosauridae may have hunted in packs.’

The image burned into Owen’s mind of Elizaveta Volkov as the stoic, hard-arse professor fractured a little more, breaking down with each small glimpse he caught of _her_ , of her passion. Her eyes sparkled in the sun, the warm chestnut brown melting to gold with her excitement, and Owen reminded himself again that while this was all very familiar for him, she’d spent her life studying bones – well, rock, really. Seeing these creatures she so adored in the flesh was a true revelation, one that certainly deserved her thrilled response.

They lingered a while longer as Elizaveta hurriedly added her notes in her journal, pen flying across the page. More surprising than her speed, however, was the fact that she turned to Owen on more than one occasion to ask his opinion, detailing those in her notes with a little star beside them. Did she really appreciate his input? She had complimented his notes from Jurassic World, so it wasn’t entirely unlikely that she was interested in his thoughts, much as he was resistant to the idea that a world-renowned Harvard professor would require them.

When she’d finished, having filled out almost three pages in rapid succession, they packed up. Without the observation post equipment, his bag was much lighter on the return, which was a relief when it came to scaling the steep slope back up to the ridge. He took his own climbing supplies to even the load between them before they began their descent back to the camp.

She was more animated on the return, infectious energy coursing through her from the excitement of the afternoon. He listened as she thought out loud about the implications of the scene they’d witnessed and the early indications of the success of the observation outpost. For the first time, he felt optimistic about this research venture and the new direction of _InGen_ under the Murhphys’ watch.

Barry met them at the entrance of the bunker, sharing in her excitement. The camera had caught the footage; Elizaveta explained it would allow them to study the hunt in detail, to focus on the anatomical aspects in particular. They spent the rest of the afternoon analysing the footage and drafting a report for the Murphys about the first observation post, feeling for the first time like a team.

* * *

Elizaveta settled herself comfortably on the top bunk in the satellite camp for the fourth night in a row. Despite the exhaustion that weighed on her body after such a physically demanding week she wasn’t ready to sleep. Her mind whirred with thoughts of the events, of all the things she had seen and learnt.

She propped her back against the wall, her feet dangling over the edge as she flicked through her notebook. She hadn’t been entirely honest with Owen on the flight over when she’d said she used Russian script for scaring her postgraduate students. The back section was reserved for personal reflection, and she found it comforting to write in her native language, both to maintain a familiarity with it and in the knowledge that few would be able to read it should her notes fall into unknown hands. 

 

> _02-June-16  
>  _ _Private Record  
>  _ _Isla Sorna_
> 
> _Watching these creatures fills me with a joy I cannot describe. I am struggling to rein in my thoughts, they are so wild with excitement at the possibilities opening before me. I have so much to learn. Studying even one of the species here could potentially provide a lifetime of work and for the next three weeks the entire island is to be my field of research. I know it is real. I know that I am on the island and walking among these beings, yet I can’t shake the fear that I am dreaming and will soon be dragged back to reality. I remind myself constantly as I gaze upon these wondrous creatures that my eyes do not deceive me._
> 
> _Grady and Jolivet have shown their true value to the team now – I doubt the Murphys could have recommended better colleagues for this venture. I hope we continue to build successfully on our working relationship. I don’t regret putting on my professor hat that first day on the island; I haven’t heard a single quip about_ InGen _since – such a relief. I do understand their frustration. I was sceptical at first too. Who wouldn’t be, considering_ InGen _’s track record? The name on their cheques is the same as the one on mine, though. I am certain as they continue to experience what the company can be under the guidance of the Murphys that they’ll see a very different_ InGen _to the one they knew. I sense a determination in Alexis and Timothy which won’t be swayed._
> 
> _Owen and Barry do seem to have relaxed now, much as they can considering their experiences on Isla Nublar. I suspect they are compartmentalising the worst of it. I hope they realise how vital they are for the success of this endeavour; their face to face experience with many of the dinosaurs at Jurassic World and their military expertise provides precious insight into how this island can best function as a dedicated research facility and how to make it as safe as it can be for groups. I must keep reminding myself not to let my eagerness for it to become a reality overwhelm my judgement, much as I want all of my students to experience what I have. I am beginning to gain a level of confidence that I cannot deny, though, after three successful missions to set up observation posts. My thoughts still linger with the first, though; we witnessed something truly astounding, something which alone could fill an entire article or three in any of the top palaeontological journals._
> 
> _The way Owen speaks is particularly intriguing. There’s an ease in the way he describes these creatures, their movements and their habits, which is both wonderful and disconcerting. I have dealt for so long with fossils I feel I have forgotten how to study a living, breathing creature, it’s simply been so many years. I’ll learn much from his observations. It is tempting to record him as he speaks so I can capture the way he describes these creatures, this place, the rich tone of his voic–_

Elizaveta snapped the notebook shut, her pen flying into the air. She didn’t notice it land on her shoulder, leaving a black line of ink on her khaki shirt. She stared at the stark white wall across from her as the sentence trailed on merrily through her mind, completely oblivious to the mental tumult that accompanied it.

It took her a moment to realise she was being ridiculous – she was recording her private thoughts in a language that neither of the men in the other rooms could read even if they did manage to get their hands on her notebook. On top of that, much as she was a professional to the core, being attracted to a colleague wasn’t unreasonable. Both Owen’s and Barry’s appearance and nature were pleasing in many ways. She’d caught satisfying glimpses of Owens’ physicality throughout the last few days, and she’d not felt guilty in any of those moments. She’d also had similar thoughts rattle around in the back of her mind when she’d met handsome, intriguing academics at conferences through the years, and she’d learnt on a handful of occasions that the attraction was mutual. Then, she thought, there was that mid-winter trip to the far north of Quebec during her masters when she’d met one of the local grad students, Durand, who had certainly met the expectations set by the Old French name.

Being a scientist and a scholar didn’t mean she wasn’t _human_.

Elizaveta placed the notebook aside, closing her eyes, allowing herself a moment to bask in the attraction; it was far better to face it than deny the sway it held over her. It was easy enough to recall the aspects which most enticed her after spending days in such close quarters alone with Owen as they trekked over the south-western section of the island. She could hear the strong timbre of his voice echoing in her ears, could smell oak, cedar, and spice, the scents that clung to him as if he’d just finished chopping firewood for a cabin deep in the American wilderness. She could imagine him sitting by a fire in said cabin, long legs stretched languidly before him as he flicked through the pages of a book. Although he was unquestionably a man of action, he also had a keen intellect – it had been evident in his notes – but to hear how clearly he articulated his observations, how easily he caught her trains of thought, only impressed her more. Perhaps, had he not chosen the military, they might have walked a similar academic path. Elizaveta held no doubts that he would have excelled.

She only hoped that at the end of the three weeks he would consent to co-author a paper with her. He’d already said academia wasn’t his scene, but she hoped to convince him over the remainder of their first expedition together. First and hopefully not last.


	6. Isla Sorna: The Depature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...When her eyes wandered across to him she found his focus still turned to the window. She traced his frame, remembering on the first flight how stiff Owen’s posture had been. Outside, he’d looked calm and collected, but after spending three weeks with him she’d realised it had been an act. This was the relaxed Owen, his arms laid on the rests with his hands dangling off the ends, his stretched out legs crossed at the ankles with the top foot subtly tapping to a slow tune in his head. His rugged face was adorned with a soft smile that touched his eyes as he stared out at the bright blue sky. A shadow of stubble framed his face and the soft waves of his hair swept were back, a few stray strands laying against his temples. This was the Owen which had started to ease out from beneath the lingering trauma of Jurassic World and was slowing finding an equilibrium again in the face of those miraculous creatures. This was the Owen which she had been admiring more and more..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers,
> 
> Thank you for your patience in waiting for this update. These last few months have been an incredibly busy time for me both academically and personally, and writing has had to take a back seat, unfortunately. Please always be assured that, no matter what, this story will see many more chapters - I never leave a work unfinished. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!
> 
> <3 Roksy

* * *

**Chapter Six**  
**Isla Sorna: The Departure**

The last day was the hardest. Not because of the oppressive heat or the effort of packing up the main research facility. No, that Elizaveta could handle. Leaving, on the other hand, presented a challenge. She stood with leaden feet, clutching at the strap of her battered satchel as she stared out through the floor to ceiling window in the common room one final time. Although they’d spent the better part of their time at the satellite site, this was a view she’d come to love. She’d spent hours at the window, taking notes and drawing the various dinosaurs that dwelled in the valley below. It wasn’t always peaceful – she’d seen the occasional predator wander through looking for a meal, causing chaos at the water’s edge – but those moments had only added to her sense of wonder. Despite the very unnatural way these creatures had been brought back into existence, into a world so far removed from their own, they had developed into an intrinsically natural ecosystem and it was _thriving_.

As she watched the pack of sauropods wade through the water one final time, she could only hope this would not be the last time she laid eyes on the tranquil scene. The thought of leaving settled in her chest again, a cold weight that dragged her shoulders down.

‘Ready to go, Professor?’

Elizaveta stared a moment longer, trying to imprint the sight in her mind – the variety of dinosaurs, the minute details of the trees and rocks that were dotted along the sand, the vibrant colours reflecting off the water –  before she finally, reluctantly, turned to face Delia. ‘Yes. Of course.’

If Delia had noticed the long pause, she didn’t show it. ‘Can I carry your bag for you?’ she asked, gesturing at the pack that was perched on the seat beside Elizaveta.

‘Thank you.’

She followed Delia up through the facility and out onto the helipad. The engines were just starting up as she climbed into the compartment. Owen and Barry were already in their seats. It seemed she’d been at the window longer than she realised.

They were soon in the air, the helicopter lifting off and rising high above the island. The largest sauropods shrank to the size of ants as they climbed and climbed, the island soon lost from their sight as the helicopter turned towards the mainland.

‘Some trip,’ Owen said, settling back in his seat. It seemed he, too, had been reluctant to let Isla Sorna out of his view.

‘Indeed,’ she agreed. When her eyes wandered across to him she found his focus still turned to the window. She traced his frame, remembering on the first flight how stiff Owen’s posture had been. Outside, he’d looked calm and collected, but after spending three weeks with him she’d realised it had been an act. _This_ was the relaxed Owen, his arms laid on the rests with his hands dangling off the ends, his stretched out legs crossed at the ankles with the top foot subtly tapping to a slow tune in his head. His rugged face was adorned with a soft smile that touched his eyes as he stared out at the bright blue sky. A shadow of stubble framed his face and the soft waves of his hair swept were back, a few stray strands laying against his temples. This was the Owen which had started to ease out from beneath the lingering trauma of Jurassic World and was slowing finding an equilibrium again in the face of those miraculous creatures. This was the Owen which she had been admiring more and more. She didn’t deny how strong her attraction was – and it was, _very_ – but theirs was a professional relationship, and he’d so far shown little interest in testing those bounds. Knowing that, however, did not stop her from appreciating just how pleasing he was to her eyes as well as her mind.

‘What do you think, Professor? Think that we’ll be back?’ Barry asked from her other side.

She shook off her thoughts, turning her attention to him. ‘We’ll see what _InGen_ says after we submit our reports,’ she said, ‘this was only the first part of our work. Now we have to demonstrate its worth.’

‘I imagine you’ll ‘ave no problems wooing the board.’ He grinned.

‘I’ll try my best. The Murphys chose me not only for my expertise but also for the influence I wield both as a palaeontologist and as a mediator. They don’t expect any push back from the board – after all, they approved all the planning – but yes, I do hope we can proceed as intended. It will take me time to pull everything together, but we could be back on the island within two or three months.’ She glanced back to the window. The island was long out of sight now, but she suspected it would remain at the forefront of her mind until she returned. ‘We have so much to learn.’

‘And a lot more writing to do.’ Owen chuckled. ‘I don’t think we took that many notes even when we were studying the raptors.’

‘It was a lot of reports. I feel I ‘ave almost too intimate a knowledge of the communication systems on the island,’ Barry said. ‘Per’aps next time I will get into the field too, no?’

‘You are our comms expert. Your work is invaluable for establishing the facilities – of that, I have no doubts,’ Elizaveta said, ‘but yes, we’ll be going further afield next time, and we’ll be spending a lot more time outside the facilities.’  

‘If there is a next time.’

Elizaveta glanced at Owen. He was leaning on his hand now, gaze still focused out the window. His relaxed demeanour didn’t hide the concern he felt; she could see the slightest tightness around his jaw. Despite his difficult history with the Jurassic world, it seemed he could not resist the lure of the island. Did he feel that same weight that lingered in her chest? That same chilling worry that this had been their last time? That all their work, all they had learned, was only the first coin of a treasure-trove they had barely started to excavate?

She resisted the urge to clear her throat. ‘Yes,’ she said, adding, ‘if.’

For the remainder of the trip, attention turned to the next task – the write-up. Although they’d had a lengthy debrief the evening before, Elizaveta wanted to be sure that they understood what would be required from them for her to compile a final report. They were so focused, they didn’t realise the journey had ended until they touched down at the private airport.

The helicopter started to power down, the door unlocking. Before they’d gathered themselves, it opened, and they were greeted by Alexis and Timothy Murphys’ bright faces.

‘Welcome back,’ they called above the whirr of the blades, the engines still humming loudly. They escorted Elizaveta, Owen, and Barry across the tarmac to the office in the back of the hangar, which was bustling with movement as a crew prepared to greet the helicopter and unload.

‘You had a pleasant return flight, I hope,’ Alexis said as she led the way into the office.

‘We did,’ Elizaveta said. She waved off Alexis’ offer of a seat, preferring to stand after the flight. ‘I won’t keep you waiting by forcing formalities. As you have likely gleaned from my reports I am, overall, pleased with the set up on Isla Sorna. I have a few minor recommendations, as do Owen and Barry, but we have agreed it would be appropriate to go ahead with the preparation program.’

‘That’s excellent news,’ Timothy said, clapping his hands together, unable to mask the boyish grin on his lips. Elizaveta wasn’t surprised by his obvious enthusiasm; the Murphys’ hopes of establishing the island as a research facility hinged on gaining the support of an appropriately experienced team. With Elizaveta’s, Owen’s, and Barry’s backing, they were one step closer to their long-term goal.

‘I’ll compose the necessary documents for you to present to the board. Should they consider our expertise adequate, Isla Sorna could be up and running as an active research facility within the next twelve to eighteen months.’

‘We are certain they will. After all, they’ve seen fit so far to support the initiative even in its earliest stages,’ Timothy said, ‘so your reports will only ease their minds.’

With a deadline set for the submission of the formal reports, the Murphys escorted the three out to a waiting car and sent them on their way to the airport. Once settled in the car, Elizaveta began to flick through her notebook, her mind already turning to the work ahead. She’d focus on the final report when she returned to the comfort of her office. For now, she faced a long flight home, and her mind was disinterested in administrative matters. Instead, she would get out her laptop and start writing an article – the first fruits of their research.

‘I can see your mind churning, Professor,’ Barry said when Elizaveta stopped on a blank page and drew a pen out from the neat bun she’d tied her hair into.

‘We made some significant discoveries this trip, even though it was brief. I think the world ought to know.’

‘Isn’t there some sort of legal order preventing you from doing that?’

Elizaveta was already jotting down the structure of the article. ‘I’ve spoken to the Murphys. They’ve encouraged me to publish any initial findings. Should you agree, I’ll begin drafting an article. I know a few editors who would be keen to hear from me.’

‘Why would you need our permission?’

Elizaveta glanced up at Owen. She set her pen down and closed the notebook. ‘I may be the only academic on our team but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect the vast contributions you made to our understanding of the island’s ecosystem and the creatures in said system, as well as to palaeontological research. I understand that neither of you is academically inclined, but I believe it is only right that you should both be listed as co-authors on any work I publish.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ she said clearly, ‘and even if we ultimately do not return to Isla Sorna, whatever the reason, I encourage you both to publish your research about the velociraptors you worked with on Isla Nublar–’ the moments the words left her mouth, she could see Owen’s interest rapidly vanishing, and she hastened to explain– ‘I’m sorry. I only mean to suggest that you share your insight into their behaviour – pack bonding, intellect, and personality traits. You could encourage people to learn about them not as distant, long-lost creatures brought to life for amusement, but as living, breathing beings. Perhaps we can even see the world the way they did.’

Owen was so focused on Elizaveta he didn’t notice the car slow to a final stop. She stared at him with those warm, honey-brown eyes, urging him with her piercing gaze as much as with her words. He felt an intense desire to simply submit, knowing well that accepting her offer could mean spending even more time over the coming months in her presence, but the words caught on his tongue as memories surfaced faster than he could stamp them down.

_Deafening sounds. Darkness. The barest brush of claws against his skin. Fear._

_Blue._

The driver opened his door, the sudden rush of fresh air dragging him back to the present. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said finally – evasively – before he climbed out of the car. He took time gathering his bags, shaking off the last of the thoughts. Barry came to the rescue with some idle conversation, giving Owen time to process his thoughts as Barry enthusiastically talked about his mother’s cooking– _‘She’ll find a way to fatten me up one day, I swear–’_ as they made their way into the airport and through security.

Truthfully, the thought of publishing was quite enticing. He’d been reading some of Elizaveta’s work while on the island, and though some of the very technical palaeontological jargon had gone over his head until he’d either looked up a definition or asked Elizaveta to explain, it was fascinating. Could she really find such significant information in his and Barry’s reports? He had little doubt that she could. But the bigger question was, was he ready to face the memories? The therapist he’d been seeing since the disaster had said that facing his memories would likely help him deal with the guilt he felt. Going to Isla Sorna certainly hadn’t been quite what Doctor Wilkins had had in mind, but seeing what Isla Sorna and therefore Isla Nublar _could_ become had allowed him to find some peace with the events. Perhaps going back to his old notes, focusing on the wondrous experiences he had instead of the final days, would allow him to move forward. 

‘Well, looks like my gate is in the opposite direction,’ Elizaveta said. ‘I enjoyed working with you both.’

‘Hopefully, we can do so again,’ Barry said, smiling broadly as he accepted Elizaveta’s hand. They lingered for a moment, genuinely disappointed that their time working together had come to an end when they were just beginning to make progress.

After a few moments, she turned to Owen. ‘I’ll be in touch about the article. In the meantime, think about what I said.’

He nodded, accepting her hand also. He was struck again by her calloused fingertips and firm grasp, as he had been the day they’d met, and when she offered him a sincere smile that made her eyes light up with gold, he understood why Barry had stolen another opportunity to press a kiss to Alexis’ knuckles as they departed from _InGen_ ’s hangar.

He cleared his throat as if to stop a sudden cough. ‘If– if I happened to be in the neighbourhood,’ he said, drawing his hand away before he could act on the impulse, ‘maybe we could get coffee?’

She might have been stunned by the question, but there was a glint in her eyes he couldn’t quite identify, something that might even have been mischief. ‘Maybe we could,’ she said, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze lingered only a moment longer and he thought, perhaps a little hopefully, it had dipped to take in more of his face before she turned away, and soon she disappeared among the bustling airport crowd.

Barry sidled up beside him. ‘ _Maybe_? Just may _oof_ –’ although the sharp jab of Owen’s elbow hurt, he still grinned mischievously.

‘Look, it just came out.’

‘You need to be confident with a woman like her.’

‘She didn’t say no, did she?’ Owen asked, glancing sideways at Barry. ‘Besides, I don’t need your advice. When was the last time you had a date?’

‘Five weeks and t’ree days ago,’ Barry said smugly, and Owen wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or concerned that he’d been counting, ‘and I ‘ave my eyes on my next. You?’

‘I do just fine on my own with women. I can even handle ones like her, remember?’ Owen said, deciding to leave out the fact that it had been months since his last date; he hadn’t seen anyone since he and Clair had parted ways, actually.  

Owen arched an eyebrow, and Barry raised his hands, conceding as he caught Owen’s drift. ‘I do, I do. How could I forget?’ He chuckled. ‘Well, you can eventually, anyway. Your first attempt at wooing Clair didn’t exactly go to plan.’ 

‘That wasn’t entirely my fault. Seriously, who makes an–’

‘Itinerary for a night out?’ Barry finished, and he had to slide a step sideways before Owen could land a half-hearted thump on his shoulder. ‘But in a tight spot, she sure knows how to improvise. You may not admit it, but without her daring, you probably would have been Indomino-dinner.

‘Come on,’ Owen muttered, turning on his heel and heading towards their gates, ‘we’ve got flights to catch.’

* * *

  **Three Weeks Later**

> _07-21-2016_
> 
> _To whom it may concern,_
> 
> _I was recently employed by Alexis Murphy and Timothy Murphy, Joint CEOs of_ InGen _, to lead a preliminary research expedition to the Jurassic Island designated Isla Sorna. As Head of International Palaeontological Research at Harvard University, I have extensive experience managing and conducting research expeditions overseas and was personally selected by Alexis Murphy and Timothy Murphy to lead this expedition. I was supported by Owen Grady and Barry Jolivet, whose experience studying and managing predatory creatures at Jurassic World, combined with their naval background, equips them with a unique set of skills for assessing security and communication measures._
> 
> _Following extensive on-site research I can confirm the facilities and equipment on Isla Sorna meet and surpass necessary safety standards. The equipment is of high quality and the facilities provide appropriate spaces and resources for both small and large groups. Isla Sorna presents a significant opportunity for the development of all fields of palaeontological research, and I look forward to partnering with InGen to establish Isla Sorna as a leading research facility for academics and students in the near future. See attached documents in section 2.2 and 2.3 for detailed descriptions and analyses of facilities, technology, and relevant reports._
> 
> _I, the undersigned, hereby recommend that the preparation program outlined by Alexis Murphy and Timothy Murphy in section 1.4 of this document be implemented. Please find attached also reports and recommendations from Owen Grady and Barry Jolivet._
> 
> _Elizaveta Volkov_
> 
> _Professor Elizaveta Volkov, BSc(Hons) MSc (Yale), DSc (Harvard)_  
>  _Head of International Palaeontological Research  
>  _ _Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, Harvard University  
>  _ _Cambridge, Massachusetts, 02138_

Elizaveta slipped the letter into the clear cover of the bound report before she slid the thick folder into the envelope already addressed and prepared for the morning mail pick-up. If all went to plan, she’d know within the week if, after three weeks of on-site research and as much follow up preparation, their efforts would amount to an ongoing research program. She had high hopes; the first expedition to Isla Sorna had been a clear success, and the reports from herself, Owen, and Barry reflected such. Her recommendation, along with the detailed plan outlined by the Murphys’, would carry the necessary clout to secure the approvals from _InGen_ ’s board to continue with the setup. Still, there was a chance – slim, though it was – that the conservative elements would change their tune despite being granted the assurance they sought. No matter the outcome, Elizaveta was still grateful for the time she’d spent on the island and for all she’d learnt.

Between returning to her usual duties at Harvard and preparing the reports, she’d found time to pull together her initial findings. The editor of _Palaeontology_ had hardly been able to form a word when she’d contacted them to ask if they’d be willing to accept a special submission, but they’d finally spluttered out a ‘yes, of course!’ and were eagerly awaiting her final draft. First, though…

She brought up her email, and with a few clicks had opened a new message.

* * *

Owen stared out at the street below, watching as lights began to flicker on as night settled over the city. He pushed the windows open, letting the cooling evening breeze float through the apartment and sweep aside the muggy summer heat which lingered throughout the building.

He leant on the window frame, taking some time to breathe that fresh air. Over the afternoon he’d worked his way up to finding his old reports; he’d run out of excuses a week ago after he’d sent the last of his contributions to Elizaveta and had spent the better part of the days since twiddling his thumbs. He’d begun to read a few, muddling his way through his archived files, an odd mixture of emotions accompanying every word he read. His analysis wasn’t as clinical as Elizaveta’s, nor as elegant, but he could see how much he’d been affected by his experiences with his team.

The open laptop pinged behind him, but he stayed a little longer at the window before he decided it was worth his attention – and it certainly was, a smile lighting his lips the moment he saw the sender.

> _Elizaveta Volkov <elizaveta.volkov@harvard.edu>_  
>  _07/21/2016 21:03  
>  _ _To: Owen Grady_
> 
> _Dear Owen,_
> 
> _I hope you’ve been well since we last spoke. Thank you for sending through those final reports from yourself and Barry – they really highlight the significance of the observation posts for non-invasive study. Unfortunately, I am only able to comment from an academic perspective; the board will appreciate the different perspective you offer as a tactician. I will be in touch when I receive word from the Murphys if we are to go ahead with the research program as planned._
> 
> _We spoke briefly on our return about the opportunity to publish our initial observations regarding the dilophosaurus’ hunting habits. I have been in touch with a journal and they have agreed to publish. As I said, I would like to cite you as my co-author. I will be in touch with Barry, also. Please find attached the final draft and let me know if this is something you would be willing to put your name to._
> 
> _Best wishes,  
>  _ _Elizaveta._

Owen had been corresponding regularly with Elizaveta since they’d returned from Isla Sorna, going back and forth about details. She spoke so formally in each message but he could sense a genuine warmth beneath the words – this was her voice, not the analytical voice in her academic work.

He opened the attachment, intending only to flick through a few pages, not realising he’d been so engrossed in the text until he reached the conclusion. He sat back in his chair, unsure how to take it in. When she’d first asked if she would consent to be listed as a co-author he’d assumed she’d offered the honour as a polite gesture, but she’d weaved his and Barry’s notes throughout the article, drawing together their thoughts as one whilst keeping their separate voices intact. She’d taken so much care to ensure that they, too, were heard. There was even a photo of him setting up one of the observation posts and one of Barry analysing the tracking data.

> _Owen Grady <o.grady@ingen.mail.com>_  
>  _07/21/2016 21:29  
>  _ _To: Elizaveta Volkov_
> 
> _Dear Elizaveta,_
> 
> _I have been well, thank you. I hope you’ve been well too. I’m looking forward to seeing what the board has to say about our work._
> 
> _I’m impressed that you managed to get onto a journal so quickly. I always heard it was pretty difficult. Of course, I’m happy to put my name to this. I’m certain Barry will be too. Hopefully, we’ll be able to work together again soon._
> 
> _Regards,  
>  _ _Owen._

Owen had wondered in the time since they’d parted ways at the airport if he’d pushed a boundary too far, asking if she’d want to grab coffee with him if he happened to be in the neighbourhood. When the hell would he be in the neighbourhood when they lived hundreds of miles apart, after all? But she was a forward person, always willing to lay down the law if necessary. The fact that she hadn’t completely blown him off… perhaps she wasn’t against to the idea?

The thought had little time to settle in his mind before another intruded. _What am I thinking?_ He wondered. _I’m getting way too ahead of myself, reading too much into all this when it’s probably completely normal for a colleague to suggest meeting for coffee._

The thought was the sobering reminder he needed. He was her colleague and she his – nothing more, despite how much he wanted… _No_. He closed the laptop, standing up from the table and heading back to the window to stare out at the darkened streets below.


	7. Academic Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...He couldn’t deny that it was a good opportunity to mingle with the academic crowd but, really, he knew the main reason for accepting. The image of Elizaveta at a desk or in a chair, writing notes and sketching in her notebook tugged at the back of his mind. Attending meant he would see Elizaveta in her natural habitat, so to speak. Would she be different? More severe or professor-like, as she had been on that first day when she’d scolded him and Barry for their snide remarks about InGen? Or would she be just as kind and engaging as she’d been on the island? Would she treat him differently, knowing that they weren’t on ‘company’ time but on their own? Technically, they were only co-workers on Isla Sorna after all. Even though Barry was right – there was no policy against fraternising – he figured Elizaveta would still be wary, unwilling to jeopardise their research for an ‘office’ fling. Still, the temptation remained..._

**Chapter Seven  
** Academic Adventures

‘Look, Barry, I’m sick of discussing this with you,’ Owen said, resisting the urge to flap and flail his arm in exasperation, lest he hit an unfortunate passer-by with his grocery bag. ‘Besides, I think it’s best if I keep it professional.’

‘But Owen, there is no clause in our contracts against fraternising; we may fraternise with whomever we choose,’ Barry said, speaking clearly as the line crackled for a moment with static. ‘I saw ‘ow she looked at you when you asked her out for coffee. She is interested as you are, I am sure of it!’

‘And when am I going to ask her out for coffee? When am I ever going to be in the neighbourhood? We don’t even live in the same state!’

‘Ah yes, you’re in Ohio. She’s in, what, Massachusetts? What’s a few ‘undred miles for love?’

Owen bit back a few choice words, instead saying, ‘you are so French sometimes it hurts.’

‘I take that as a compliment.’

‘Of course. You would.’

‘And you don’t deny it.’

‘That’s because there is nothing to deny. Do I like her? Yes. She’s clever and she’s interesting to talk to. Is she pretty?–’

‘You said–’

‘ _Yes_ , she is pretty,’ he said, talking over the man before Barry could bring up _that_ conversation again. ‘Any straight male probably thinks so too. Don’t start reading into something that isn’t there.’

‘Fine, fine. But if I steal her, you can’t blame me.’

‘I can’t see you doing that. It’d make Alexis jealous.’

Owen smirked when he heard only the faintest crackle of static, his friend falling silent at the mention of the older Murphy sibling. _Yeah_ , he thought as the silence dragged on, _that’s right. I still have that card up my sleeve_.  

‘Much as I love going around and around in circles with you like this – on _my_ dime, by the way, because you insisted I call _you_ – I’m almost home and I do actually have things to do.’

‘Well, I ‘ave many things to do also, I’ll ‘ave you know,’ Barry said, recovering from his momentary – blessed – silence. ‘One of them is named Chantelle.’

The line went dead. Owen chuckled as he tucked his phone back into his pocket in time to free his hand and find his security card for the entrance to his building. He nodded to the lone security guard at the desk and wandered over to the row of letter boxes. The moment he opened his box, something caught his eye; a letter, clad in a crisp white envelope seemed to shimmer amidst the bent bills and advertisements. He reached in, tucking the other mail and leaflets under his arm, and as he made his way towards the elevator he turned the envelope around in his hand, finding it sealed with an emblazoned with an embossed sticker – a crest of some sort.

He resisted the urge to shuffle his burdens and try to tear it open lest he drop his groceries. The moment he reached his apartment, however, he abandoned the bag on the kitchen table, laying the usual mail beside it as he turned his attention to the curious letter. The last intriguing piece of mail he’d received had been from Timothy Murphy, an initial point of contact which – although rather unwelcome at the time – proved to be a fantastic opportunity. If not for the crest, he’d have assumed it was another letter from InGen. So, who had sent this one?

He leant against the counter, rather more gentle with this letter than his usual mail. The moment he unfolded it, his brows shot up.

> _Garret McIntyre_  
>  Head of Palaeontology  
> Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, Harvard University  
> Cambridge, Massachusetts, 02138  
> Tel: (617) 495- 2352 | E-mail: garret.mcintyre@harvard.edu
> 
> _~_
> 
> _Dear Mr Grady–_

Garret McIntyre. Owen stared at the name, hearing it uttered in his mind as if from Elizaveta’s lips; she’d mentioned the man more than once. McIntyre was the head honcho of Harvard’s palaeontology department. Elizaveta’s boss. _Why in the world,_ Owen wondered, _has he sent a letter to me? How does he even know who I am?_

Owen didn’t have to read far to get his answers.

> _Dear Mr Grady,_
> 
> _I spoke with my colleague Elizaveta Volkov recently regarding some research conducted on the Jurassic island designated Isla Sorna in partnership with InGen. She spoke highly of you and your expertise regarding velociraptors. I would like to say that I appreciate your contribution to the project; should the island become a permanent research facility, many students and academics will benefit from your work._
> 
> _Elizaveta today informed me that your co-authored article, “Social Hunting: A New Study on Advanced Hunting Strategies of the Dilophosauridae” (2016), has been accepted without revisions and is due to be published in the next edition of Palaeontology. Having been granted the honour of reading the final draft, I am delighted to say that this article is a fantastic contribution to current research about dilophosauridae._
> 
> _To celebrate your article’s publication, I would like to invite you to visit Harvard for a tour of the department followed by a gathering of colleagues for lunch on 22 August, starting at 11 AM. Please let me know if this time would suit you, otherwise, we can arrange a better time. I understand you would be travelling from Columbus, so I am happy to organise a refund for any travel and accommodation expenses – just forward your receipts by email to the department administrator, Katherine Dobbs, whose contact information is attached._
> 
> _If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me or Mrs Dobbs._
> 
> _Kind regards,  
>  Garret McIntyre  
> BSc(Hons) MSc (Princeton) DSc (MIT) DSc (Stanford)_

A grin crossed Owen’s lips. A few weeks back, Elizaveta had let him know that she’d submitted the article shortly after mailing off their final reports to _InGen_. Then, a week ago, Elizaveta had told him they were heading back to Isla Sorna at the beginning of September to continue the preparation program. Now _this_. Never in his wildest thoughts or dreams had he believed he’d be published – well, not in an academic journal. He’d had plenty of people try and buy his story after the disaster at Jurassic World, but he had no interest in indulging them, no matter how many zeros appeared on the cheque.

Owen flipped over the page, finding contact information for the department manager as promised. He was already pulling out his cell and starting to tap in the digits to the office phone number before he paused, wondering if he was acting a little impulsively. He should check out flights, he thought, and accommodation. Plan, rather than forge ahead without a second thought. But the truth was that he had no plans apart from the next trip the Isla Sorna. Money wasn’t a factor either, especially knowing that the largest expenses would subsequently be covered by the department. Was he just eager? Excited to have a plan, rather than to while away the days as he had been lately? Perhaps.

He couldn’t deny that it was a good opportunity to mingle with the academic crowd but, really, he knew the main reason for accepting. The image of Elizaveta at a desk or in a chair, writing notes and sketching in her notebook tugged at the back of his mind. Attending meant he would see Elizaveta in her natural habitat, so to speak. Would she be different? More severe or professor-like, as she had been on that first day when she’d scolded him and Barry for their snide remarks about _InGen_? Or would she be just as kind and engaging as she’d been on the island? Would she treat him differently, knowing that they weren’t on ‘company’ time but on their own? Technically, they were only co-workers on Isla Sorna after all. Even though Barry was right – there was no policy against fraternising – he figured Elizaveta would still be wary, unwilling to jeopardise their research for an ‘office’ fling. Still, the temptation remained.

_If ever there was a chance to be in the neighbourhood_ , he thought, _this is it_.

He almost called Barry back first, but realised he’d have listen to more of the man’s jibes, so he typed the final digits.

The call was picked up within a few rings, and Mrs Dobbs greeted him brightly. ‘Hello, you’ve reached the Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences. This is Katherine speaking. How may I help you?’

‘Hi, Katherine. My name is Owen Grady. I just received a letter from Professor McIntyre inviting me to a function with your department, and I’d like to accept the invitation...’

* * *

Owen tugged at his shirt this way and that, trying to get it to sit comfortably. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn the garment, one that had been long tucked in storage while he’d been living on Isla Nublar, but he was sure that it hadn’t been quite so tight around his chest. As he waited, he wished again that Barry could have come, but with their impending return to the island, his friend had chosen to remain at home for an extra two weeks.

As he’d said, _I’d love to see you make a fool of yourself in front of the Professor but I spent enough years away from my mother and her cooking for that when I joined you at Jurassic World._

Owen looked up when he heard footsteps and glanced down the hallway. An older man, in his late fifties at a guess, wandered towards him. He wasn’t wearing a stereotypical tweed jacket, as Owen admittedly had expected of the renowned professor, but was dressed very much like Owen in a button down shirt, tidy blue jeans, and boots which were much more polished than Owen’s battered pair.

‘Mr Grady, so nice to finally meet you,’ the Professor said, words laced with an old Scottish accent that had been worn away by the years. An inviting smile peeked from beneath his silver-grey, perfectly coiffed imperial-style moustache and he held out his hand, his grip firm and sure. ‘Garret McIntyre. I hope you’ve not waited long.’

‘No, not at all.’

‘Good lad. Come. I’ll take you on a tour of our department, and then introduce you to my colleagues.’

Owen fell into step with McIntyre, listening intently as the professor talked about the facilities and the researchers. They even stopped in to talk to some of the graduate students, who seemed to have pre-planned a diversion; the moment he and the Professor entered the room one student quickly pulled McIntyre aside, allowing the others to crowd around Owen. They grilled him for a solid ten minutes about Isla Sorna before McIntyre came to the rescue, insisting they head on to lunch, much to Owen’s relief. He enjoyed talking to the eager students, but he’d come directly to campus after the flight and hadn’t had a bite to eat, as his stomach promptly reminded him with a low growl.

They made their way through more corridors, eventually coming upon a meeting room buzzing with chatter. Owen began to look for Elizaveta in the crowd as he picked up a glass of champagne from a table and snatched up an hors d'oeuvre to quiet his grumbling stomach. Before he had a chance to spot her, individuals who were close enough to notice Owen’s arrival with Professor McIntyre began to break off from their small groups to introduce themselves. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when it came to meeting these academics but, as he’d quickly learned with Elizaveta, he had to toss his assumptions of what a typical academic looked like aside.

Far, far aside.

The first person he met was Tara, a palaeobiologist with the brightest pink hair he’d ever seen, and more piercings in her ears than he could count. Next he met Marcus, a senior lecturer in invertebrate palaeontology who, at 6’5” and 250 pounds, looked like he could – and often did – lift trucks for fun. Then, just as he was recovering from having to crane his neck to look Marcus in the eyes, he met Geoff the archaeologist. Geoff appeared plain enough wearing black framed glasses and a black long-sleeve top, _appeared_ being the key word.

Part way through their conversation, as Owen was explaining the setup of the remote monitoring stations, Geoff pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows to reveal forearms completely covered in vibrant tattoos. Owen managed to keep his gaze up, even though he was seized by the desire to examine the intricate designs more closely.

A melodic _clink clink clink_ of a knife on a glass sounded in the room, and he was forced to turn away from Geoff. All eyes turned to Professor McIntyre, who smiled jovially at the crowd.

‘Welcome, welcome all. As you know, you’re not just here for a free meal–’ chuckles filtered through the room– ‘we are here to celebrate our colleagues, one you know very well, and one who I believe you shall come to know well.’

Owen tried to look around as casually as possible, still trying to catch sight of Elizaveta, but the crowd had condensed to hear McIntyre’s speech.

‘Though we are all jealous, I’m sure, that we are not the ones to be laying the foundations for this new research facility, the work Elizaveta and Owen are doing will establish an unparalleled opportunity for students and teachers alike. Before we enjoy lunch, drinks, and a rare opportunity to spend time with our colleagues from all areas in our department and beyond, I hope you will join me in wishing them all the best for their future endeavours on Isla Sorna. Let us all raise a glass and congratulate Elizaveta and Owen on their first-class research and their upcoming paper in _Palaeontology_.’

Clapping resounded. Marcus thumped Owen on the shoulder in a playful gesture of congratulations, though Owen had to plant his feet to stay standing due to the sheer weight behind the man. Geoff, who was still beside Owen, pretended not to notice Owen sway forward, politely keeping his eyes on McIntyre before he offered Owen a fist bump.

‘Impressive work,’ Geoff said, gesturing for Owen to follow him to the buffet table as they talked, ‘getting published that fast.’

‘Elizaveta certainly has some serious clout in academia.’

‘Hey, she’s earned it. Most people spend their whole lives building the resume she had by the time she hit thirty last year. We celebrated her birthday _and_ her latest monograph simultaneously. Can you imagine? Three monographs by the age of thirty.’ He shook his head, though he grinned from ear to ear. ‘I turned thirty-nine a few months back and I’m still working on my third!’

He laughed heartily as he began to help himself to a selection of dishes, giving Owen a moment to try and process the enormity of such a task, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d seen her list of published works. _Long_ was an understatement.

Owen gathered a plate, pleased to finally dig into a meal. Geoff walked him around, introducing him to people as they went. The atmosphere buzzed with chatter and laughter, each new person as curious as the last about Isla Sorna, though in their own way. Geologists wanted to know about the landscape and the rock formations, while biologists were interested in how the ecosystem had adapted to the presence of the dinosaurs that now roamed the land. He answered each question as best as he could, and though he felt much of it was beyond his ability to answer adequately, each scholar seemed happy with the information he could provide. He began to feel like he was stuck in a polite whirlwind; Geoff led him around the room, new faces greeting him with every turn of his head.

He was wondering just how many people were at this function when, as Geoff became engrossed in conversation with the archaeologists he’d recently introduced Owen to, Owen finally caught sight of Elizaveta milling among the academics. He’d grown so used to seeing her dressed in khaki and with her hair in a high, artfully messy bun that he almost didn’t recognise her.

Her dark hair curled freely over her shoulders, concealing her features from this angle until she swept a few strands over her ear, revealing her sharp jawline and her scarred right cheek. And she definitely wasn’t wearing khaki today, oh no. She wore a vibrant purple blouse, the silken fabric appearing to shimmer under the lights. Before he could stop himself his eyes dropped down to the high-waisted pencil skirt that hugged her curves, his gaze tracing the outline of her thigh, then her bare calves, toned and tanned from hours upon hours of working at digs.

It wasn’t until Geoff nudged his elbow politely that he realised the archaeologist – was it Emily? – had asked him something.

‘Sorry, do you mind if we chat a bit later?’ He tried to look as regretful as he could manage. ‘I’ve just spotted my co-author; I only got into town this morning and I haven’t had a chance to say hi.’ 

‘Oh, of course not!’ she said, waving him on, ‘lovely to meet you, Mr Grady.’

‘And you,’ he said, offering a smile before he turned on his heel and bailed in the opposite direction. He squeezed his way through the mingling academics, keeping his eyes locked on Elizaveta in the hopes that no one would stop him. Much as he appreciated the interest in the research facility, he’d spent the better part of two hours being quizzed by strangers; it would be nice to talk to a friend.

‘Owen, there you are,’ she said when she spotted him, honeyed eyes lighting up with her smiled. ‘I’d hoped we would run into each other eventually. Garret didn’t tell me so many people would be coming.’

‘It’s quite the crowd,’ he said, resisting the urge to tug at his too-tight collar as she stepped closer to allow someone to squeeze past at her back. ‘How have you been?’

‘Fantastic, though it’s been a bit of a madhouse around here, making sure everything is in order before our next trip to Isla Sorna. We’ll be gone for almost two months, after all. And you?’

‘Good, good. Not as busy as you, that’s for sure. I did start thinking about writing that article like you suggested.’

‘Wonderful. You should bring your materials; Barry should too. I can show you both how to structure and write a paper.’ She smiled, honeyed eyes bright. ‘Oh, speaking of articles, you’ve just reminded me,’ she said, taking a final hasty sip of her champagne and setting the glass aside, ‘I’ve got something to show you. Come to my office.’

He glanced around the crowded room. ‘Shouldn’t we wait until the party finishes?’

‘There’s free food and drinks; no one will be leaving until they run out. I’m sure we can sneak away,’ she said, beckoning him to follow, a sly smile on her lips. His legs started to move before he’d consciously decided to take a step, the lure of her mischievousness ensnaring him. Soon they were winding their way through corridors into the depths of the department until they reached a door emblazoned with her name. She paused just before she turned the knob, glancing over her shoulder and saying, ‘I hope you can excuse the mess. I’m afraid I ran out of shelf space some time ago.’

Entering Elizaveta’s office was like entering another world. He felt almost as he had the first time he’d stepped on Isla Nublar, knowing he was soon to encounter a living, breathing dinosaur for the first time. The book shelves overflowed with thick volumes – some old, some new, some bound in pristine leather, others falling apart at the seams – but no matter the state, he suspected she’d read every single one. Documents were stacked in impossible piles around a plain but sturdy wooden desk that was decked with two monitors and another stack of papers. Even the walls were covered; framed copies of her degrees hung between detailed anatomical photos of predatorial species. Perhaps the most striking thing in the room, though, stood on the filing cabinet behind her chair as if it was watching over her.

‘Is that… is that a compy?’ he asked, pointing at the to-scale model skeleton.

She glanced up from her desk. ‘ _Compsognathus longipes_ , yes.’ She smiled fondly. ‘They’ve been my favourite dinosaur since I was a child. I’d say I probably wouldn’t be where I am today if not for my interest in them.’

The sentence seemed innocent enough. Owen was even on the verge of meeting her smile, but the expression slipped away, and she seemed to shake herself before she looked down at her desk again.

‘Ah,’ she shuffled a couple pages aside, ‘here it is.’ She picked up a paper-clipped document and moved around her desk to approach him. ‘It arrived this morning. Normally, I would have announced this at the gathering we just had, but I wanted you to know before anyone else.’

He arched an eyebrow at her as he accepted the document. Before he could ask what it was, she said, ‘it’s the final proof. I know that it’s probably not that exciting considering we already know it will be published, but–’

‘It’s awesome,’ he said, smoothing his hand across the page, tracing his fingertip over his name. When he glanced up again her smile had returned and he felt his heart stutter out a samba.

‘Elizaveta.’ He was pleased at how her name rolled off his tongue, despite how leaden it felt as he contemplated the question he was about to ask. He pulled on his most charming smile, gathering every ounce of confidence. ‘Since I’m in the neighbourhood… how about we go get that coffee?’

‘Well…’ she glanced over her shoulder, appearing to survey her desk. He again had to resist the urge to tug at his collar as the moment stretched his nerves, a barrage of thoughts popping into his mind: _she’s probably too busy. Way too busy. Or not interested. She didn’t exactly jump at the offer in the airport._ _The noncommittal answer was probably a subtle ‘stop’ sign that I’ve just flown through. Barry was full of s–_

‘It’s your lucky day,’ she said, her eyes lighting up like liquid gold, ‘it just so happens that my afternoon is free.’


	8. Misreading the Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...He couldn’t deny that he’d liked the way she said_ our _, could even forget for a moment that Barry was a member of their team. Much as he was glad to have his best friend by his side, a part of him enjoyed the tension radiating between him and Elizaveta, and he began to wonder what would happen if they shared more moments like this..._

* * *

**Chapter Eight**  
**Misreading the Signs**

Elizaveta led Owen through the campus, pointing out some of the historical features and the old buildings, all the while recounting stories of her graduate study years. She wasn’t shy about the mischief she’d got up to, and Owen was again reminded about how unreliable stereotypes were; although she was studious, she’d ensured she made most of her college experience.

Eventually, they wound their way down to one of the favourite academic haunts: Buckminster’s. They were seated in minutes, despite the busy afternoon crowd. It helped that Elizaveta seemed to know all the staff; she greeted them fondly by name, and each of them offered her bright, friendly smiles. She didn’t even have to order her coffee – the server already knew exactly how she liked hers.

Owen shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. He felt almost claustrophobic in the tight confines of his shirt, the seams resting hard on his shoulders when he tried to lean an elbow on the table. He tried leaning back instead, but that only made matters worse, and when he rested his hands on his thighs, his arms back, the shirt stretched tight over his chest. He heard the barest _rip_ of a stitch as Elizaveta turned her head to look up at the server and the strained button let go. It shot a foot forward onto the table, bouncing once, rolling a few inches, then coming to rest beside Elizaveta’s napkin.

He couldn’t reach for it; the server was already placing their coffees on the table. He could only hope that no one noticed.

To his relief, the server placed Elizaveta’s order right beside the napkin, the saucer covering the lost button from view.

She picked up her drink. ‘I’ve been to every café on or near campus, and none of them quite match the quality of the coffee they make here.’ She savoured the first sip, expression blissful. When Owen took a sip of his cappuccino, he had to agree; it was easily one of the best coffee he’d ever had.

‘The owner insists on importing special beans,’ she added, ‘and as far as I know, he’s the only shop that uses them in all of Cambridge.’

‘I could get used to this,’ Owen said, taking another sip, ‘though, I have to admit that the machine the Murphys put at the research base is good.’

‘That is one of the better ones. I hadn’t expected them to be so generous with the fit out, but they seem to have spared no expense.’ She chuckled, mostly to herself. ‘Or perhaps they just know what researchers are like. We don’t function well without strong caffeine.’

Owen chuckled with her. ‘I hope your colleagues don’t mind that we bailed.’

‘As much as they like a good cup of coffee or tea, between the food and the wine, I doubt they noticed. When I go back to Isla Sorna, however… let’s just say I’ll get plenty of messages wanting some exclusive pictures of the island.’

‘It’s certainly got people talking.’

‘It has. It’s not often we have an opportunity to study the past in such an exciting way.’

‘I’m sure Geoff would love to clone some of his favourite historical figures.’

‘Oh, he would. I can think of a few people he’d love to talk to even for an hour to get some insight into their thoughts.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘Such a unique opportunity has been laid before us, so far beyond that which I have ever dared to dream. I’m fortunate to be so secure in my position that no one, so far, has questioned whether I deserve to be at the forefront of this project.’

‘I definitely didn’t get a feeling they would. Everyone seemed pretty excited for you.’

‘I believe they are, truly. But as much as they are excited that someone they know – whom they feel a close personal connection with in most cases – has been given the privilege we have, the simple fact is that academia is immensely competitive. I’ve felt excitement and professional jealousy equally from most of my colleagues. Geoff is perhaps the only exception.’ She smirked. ‘He’s also quite aware that the history he deals with is significantly more recent than that which palaeontologists do, and is pleased that he at least has a few more sources to theorise with – his, at least, could write.’

‘I guess, with the Jurassic islands, ours sort of… talk, now.’ At her arched brow, he elaborated. ‘It’s just like that old adage: actions speak louder than words. We can see how these creatures interact now. We can see how they form bonds, how they fight and play, and hunt.’ He leant forward, resting his elbows on the table, his half-drunk coffee forgotten in his enthusiasm. ‘That was one of our main aims in working with the raptors. We wanted to understand their pack dynamics, which ended up giving us a better understanding of the individuals within the group.’ 

He realised in that moment how close they were – both leaning on the table, captured in their shared anticipation. She’d leant her delicate chin on her knuckles, was watching him with that clear, focused gaze that made him feel more like a specimen than a man, but a soft smile graced her lips, and he could see gold flecks in her honeyed eyes; they sparkled in the afternoon sun that caressed her bronzed skin through the window.  

‘I’m looking forward to our next expedition.’

He had to swallow the lump in his throat before he spoke again. ‘Me too.’

He couldn’t deny that he’d liked the way she said _our_ , could even forget for a moment that Barry was a member of their team. Much as he was glad to have his best friend by his side, a part of him enjoyed the tension radiating between him and Elizaveta, and he began to wonder what would happen if they shared more moments like this.

‘We’re bound to have some downtime while we’re on Isla Sorna. You should bring some of your materials next week; I would be more than happy to work with you and Barry to develop a framework. Structuring palaeontological articles is surprisingly straight-forward, and the two of you could publish a string of articles based on the work you did with the velociraptors alone.’

‘Last time I spoke to Barry he was willing to consider the possibility. I’m sure he’ll be a lot more enthusiastic once he sees the excitement our article on the dilos has generated before it’s even published.’

‘It’s disappointing he couldn’t make it for the celebration but I understand why he chose to stay with his family. I’m looking forward to Christmas for the same reason.’

‘Your family is interstate?’

‘International, actually. They live in London.’

_Of course_ , he thought. Her accent was so smooth, he often forgot she wasn’t actually American.

‘How often do you see them?’

‘I usually try to go over once a year, and they also make a trip, but it’s been difficult this year. I won’t get to see them until December, which is the longest we’ve gone without spending time together since the second year of my Bachelor. Skype does make the distance easier but a digital presence isn’t the same as physical, of course.’

She curled her hands around her mug as if seeking comfort from the warmth radiating through the ceramic. Owen was torn; he wanted to reach for her, to offer comfort, but he didn’t know if she’d appreciate the gesture. Though he found it easy to talk to her, they seemed to teeter on the edge of friendship, and he was unsure where he stood on the line between work friend and true friend. His attraction, much as he’d tried to fight it, made his feelings towards her all the more complicated. If he laid his hand over hers he knew it would go beyond offering comfort – he _wanted_ to touch her, wanted her to seek his touch in return.

He was still warring with his desires when a tall, leanly built man came gliding up to the table. He was dressed head to toe in black, but he didn’t appear to be a server; his shirt looked like it cost more than Owen’s entire wardrobe combined.

‘I thought I ‘eard one of my girls say your name,’ he said, his attention locked on Elizaveta. ‘It’s been too long. I ‘aven’t seen you even for coffee. Not since before your trip.’

He had an accent Owen couldn’t quite put his finger on. Although this man seemed to drop hard ‘h’ sounds like Barry, he spoke vowels as hard, short sounds instead, and his voice lacked the melodic quality that Barry’s exuded. The closest Owen could guess was that he was Mediterranean.

‘I have missed the coffee,’ she said, leaning back into her seat and widening the distance between her and Owen, ‘but I’ve hardly left my office of late, and my commitments won’t be letting up any time soon. In fact, we’ll be returning to the island shortly.’

The newcomer arched an eyebrow curiously. ‘We?’

‘Yes. This is Owen Grady, one of my research partners on the expedition. He’s visiting from Columbus to celebrate our soon-to-be-published article.’ She motioned to Owen and back. ‘Owen, this is Tullio. We went through graduate school at the same time, though in different fields.’

Owen held out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you,’ he said. Judging by the name, Owen laid a bet on Italy for the man’s origins. He was certainly rocking an olive complexion and the dark, glossy hair one would expect, which was perfectly coiffed.

‘Likewise,’ Tullio said, the word clipped. Owen figured it was the accent that made it sound harsh; the man’s smile appeared genuine enough, his handshake firm but giving. ‘Your name is familiar. I might be mistaken, but perhaps we ‘ave met before?’

‘No, this is actually my first time to Massachusetts. But it wouldn’t surprise me if you’d heard my name.’ At Tullio’s inquiring look, he added, ‘I worked at Jurassic World.’

The man pursed his lips for the briefest moment. ‘Ah, familiar indeed. You are t’at Grady.’ He nodded, his brow drawn with thought. ‘A terrible business, no?’

‘You could say that.’

‘And you’ve returned to their employ? _InGen_ , I mean.’

‘The company has changed significantly under the Murphys,’ Elizaveta said, ‘for the better. Had I not seen the proof for myself, I never would have agreed to work for them long-term.’

‘I’m sure you’ll put them in line if you ‘ave to, anyway,’ Tullio said, smiling down at Elizaveta. ‘What are you doing on the island? You are not on Isla Nublar, I ‘ope.’

‘No. We’re conducting research on site B. Isla Sorna has had minimal human intervention.’

‘Well, minimal apart from a few idiots who got… lost.’ Owen smirked. The misadventures involving Dr Malcom and Dr Grant weren’t exactly a secret.

‘So, what do you do Owen? Are you a palaeontologist too?’

‘My resume isn’t as impressive as Elizaveta’s. I mostly handle security strategies and risk assessment.’

‘Don’t depreciate your value to the team, Owen. The work you do keeps us safe,’ Elizaveta said, ‘and you know how highly I think of your contributions to our research.’ She returned her gaze to Tullio. ‘In fact, we snuck out of a party being thrown for us. The research we conducted has borne its first fruit.’

‘That’s wonderful news. Congratulations to you both,’ Tullio said, though his focus was on Elizaveta.

‘So, Tullio,’ Owen said when the man’s gaze lingered uncomfortably on the professor, ‘Elizaveta said you were a graduate student with her. What do you do now?’

‘You’re looking at it.’ He gestured around, his expression somewhat smug. ‘I own this café.’ He glanced at Elizaveta and _winked_. ‘Putting my business degree to work, as papa says.’

‘How is your father?’

‘I wouldn’t ask ‘im. ‘is publisher is getting impatient.’

‘He’s writing a new book then. You’ll have to tell me when it’s out.’

‘You’ll get a copy from the first print, as always.’

One of the servers brushed past, asking Tullio to come sign off on a discount. He nodded briskly, then asked, ‘when is your next trip, _carina_? You said you would be going back shortly.’

‘Next week.’

‘The life and times of a ‘a _r_ vard professor. Always something keeps you busy.’ He smirked. ‘Call if you ‘ave time to spare for an old friend before your next adventure.’

Owen was surprised to feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle at the remark; he suspected that friendship wasn’t what Tullio had in mind, not when his eyes dropped to Elizaveta’s lips. There was an intense familiarity in Tullio’s gaze as they leisurely traced the soft curves, as Owen had wanted to do more than he dared to admit. Clearly, the pair had history. Is that why she’d brought him here? Was she trying to politely draw the line?

‘I’ll be sure to pop again before I go,’ Elizaveta said, smiling up at Tullio.

Owen locked his gaze on the remnants of his coffee. He told himself he was deciding if it was worth scooping out the froth of the cappuccino. As he picked up the mug, he told himself he was desperate for the last modicum of caffeine the cup contained after such a long day, but another explanation trickled through his thoughts. He knew Elizaveta would stare at Tullio with that same intimate familiarity as Tullio had her lips, that coffee was the last thing on their minds. Even though he recognised how irrational it was, he couldn’t control the jealousy that seared through his veins at the thought of this man, this stranger – a stranger to him, at least – cherishing Elizaveta’s bronzed skin and placing kisses upon the scars that framed her lips and face. How many times had he imaged tasting the scar that cut through her bottom lip, the very scar Tullio seemed intimately acquainted with?

It seemed that the harder he fought this attraction, the stronger it became, and the further out of reach the professor stepped. He clenched his fists beneath the table, crushing his anger with them. Elizaveta had a life beyond Isla Sorna, beyond their research – one which Tullio was a part of, and which he was not.

* * *

As Elizaveta walked back up to her building with Owen she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to have withdrawn from her. He’d been visibly relieved when she’d rescued him from the bustling crowd and taken him to her office, had even unbuttoned his shirt a little when they’d arrived at the café, clearly feeling more relaxed. Even though she’d thought him rather handsome in the crisp shirt, she was particularly fond of the rugged aspects of his appearance – the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the way he carelessly rolled his sleeves up, the way a tantalising hint of chest-hair always peeked over the neck of his shirt – aspects which had crept out as they’d talked over coffee.  

She wanted to ask him what was on his mind but feared overstepping. She feared she had already overstepped. Had she gone too far when she’d talked about her family? Spoken too personally? She didn’t think so, but it was the only thing she could think of that would explain the marked change in his demeanour. Every time he took a step towards her, making her wonder if there was a spark between them, he quickly doubled back. She could only assume she’d misread the signs; signs she had, perhaps, been too eager to see.

She was so used to her partners being straight-forward in their expectations and being able to be so in return. Her academic life had left little time for romance, after all. She had tried for a time to seek such a connection with Tullio but, in the end, they’d quickly realised they were better friends than partners and more compatible lovers without strings attached. She suspected that Owen wasn’t a no-strings-attached kind of guy, no matter how rough-and-tumble he appeared.

She wasn’t sure she could be that way with him – with anyone. Sex was easy. Sex didn’t make things complicated, didn’t require her to be emotionally vulnerable. It was much easier to shut out the past when only her mind and body was on the line, her heart and emotions still firmly within her control.

‘Well, I guess this is your stop,’ he said as they reached her building. He offered a smile, but she could tell he was trying to mask _something_ in his eyes, an extra dash of swagger added to the look.

‘It is.’ She returned his smile, hoping he saw the sincerity in her gaze. ‘When do you head back home?’

‘First thing in the morning. I thought about staying longer, but I figure you’ve got better things to do than entertain me for a few days.’ He almost cringed at the word, wishing he’d chosen something that didn’t seem to carry so many extra connotations. ‘I’m sure you’ve got plenty of work to do in preparation. And, well, if I’m going to start writing an article, I should probably make sure I’m prepared too.’ 

If she’d noticed the double meaning in his words, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to smile at him, giving him the same electrifying look she’d given him in the café. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Owen. It was nice to get away from the crowd for a little while.’

‘Yeah, it was.’ He nodded, a half smile on his lips. ‘Well…’ He glanced up at the building, then back at her. He seemed to be searching for words. ‘Until next week, I guess.’

For the barest moment, she thought he was going to reach for her. His hand inched closer, fingers seeming to grasp the air before he fisted them and held his arm firmly against his side. There was a resigned sort of look in his eyes; she could see he was fighting the urge, the temptation to touch her – or at least she hoped that was what held him back. Again, she wondered if she was reading too much into his actions, wanting to see the desire she felt reflected in him.

‘Until next week.’ She offered him another smile. ‘Have a safe flight, Owen.’

She turned before she could succumb to her own temptations. She enjoyed Owen’s friendship, valued their strong partnership as researchers. Even something as simple as a kiss, no matter how much she desired it, could shake the trust they’d built together.

* * *

Owen watched Elizaveta disappear into the building. When she didn’t look back he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. He wanted to keep her in his sight for as long as possible, but he’d also hoped she would feel the same, that she, too, would want to savour one last glimpse.

He returned to his hotel on the outskirts of the campus. It was early evening, the summer breeze caressing his chest. He reached up; he’d been so caught up in their conversation that he’d forgotten about the lost button. It was probably still lying on the table where it fell beside the napkin. The thought made a wry smile tug at his lips. To think he’d been so concerned about that damn button…

Owen checked his phone. It was almost midnight in France but Barry often stayed up late, and within four rings the man picked up the phone.

‘And to what do I owe this ‘onour,’ Barry said cheerily when he answered.

‘I just need to talk, actually,’ he said, perching on the end of the bed in his room. ‘I know you’ve been very intent on insisting I have a chance with Elizaveta – hell, I almost believed you…’

‘But?’

‘Well, it looks like she’s got a boyfriend.’

‘ _No_.’

Owen could almost imagine the look on Barry’s face, was sure his jaw would be ready to fall off.

‘He owns one of the main café’s near the campus.’

‘He does?’

‘And he’s Italian.’

‘Oh, you’re in trouble.’

‘Thanks, Barry,’ Owen quipped. ‘I’m really feeling the support.’

The man stifled a snort on the other end of the line, fighting for composure. ‘Are you sure they’re together? Did she introduce ‘im as a boyfriend?’

‘She didn’t need to. He called her _carina_. I’m not sure what it means, but it sounded like an endearment.’

‘Well, it is, technically, but that doesn’t mean they are _together_ together. It just translates to ‘dear’. It’s not uncommon for friends to use it. I knew an Italian girl in ‘igh school. She called me _caro_ ,’ Barry explained, clearly attempting to ease Owen’s mind.

‘I’d believe that if he hadn’t started stripping her mentally when he looked at her.’

‘But you look at the professor like that.’

‘I do not.’

‘You do!’

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to snap back at his friend. Arguing like five-year-olds was _not_ helping. He needed Barry to listen –not just to dissuade the man from his suggestive remarks, but to cement the reality of the situation in his own mind.  

‘Whatever, just– the fact is that by taking me to that café she told me very firmly that she likes to keep her work and her personal life separate, which I can understand, even if I wish it weren’t the case.’ Before Barry could comment, he continued, ‘Today she set a boundary and I’m not going to overstep it. I’m just going to have to continue to be professional and make sure that I don’t say anything out of line.’

‘But she didn’t–’

‘Barry, please. Can you listen to me for five seconds?’ He paused, relieved when Barry didn’t protest. ‘You remember how she spoke to us on that first day on the island, how she took control. She’s a professor through and through, and she has zero tolerance for bullshit. I can only imagine what she’s dealt with during her career to make her that way. Hell, the stories Claire told me about her experiences would make your skin crawl.’ He bit his tongue. Even the thought of the stories was enough to reignite his anger again, and he had to grit his teeth to shake off the memories.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘while I think Elizaveta and I have become friends while working together, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable because I’m having trouble keeping my feelings under control. They’re my feelings, so they’re my problem. Besides, I’m sure that if she wanted… something between us she would have said so by now.’  

For a moment they sat in silence, the soft crackle of the phone line the only indication that the call was still connected until Barry said, ‘you really like her.’

Owen pursed his lips. He exhaled deeply, letting himself fall back onto the mattress. ‘I don’t know,’ he said finally. ‘We spent so much time together on the island. I enjoyed that time but… maybe it was just the thrill of the expedition. Maybe the adventure made our interactions feel more intense. Her enthusiasm was… I can’t even describe it. And she just seemed to bring out the best in me. She got me thinking not just about the research we were conducting but about all the work we did at Jurassic World, about how valuable it can be to our understanding of dinosaurs when someone isn’t trying to manipulate it for their own selfish, violent ends. I don’t want to risk the friendship we have just because I’ve got a crush.’

Barry was silent for a moment, thoughts clearly churning in his mind. Owen swore he could hear the man’s gears working, and he waited for the onslaught that would surely follow his admission. They’d always taunted each other, and this was surely an opportunity Barry wouldn’t miss.

‘That’s fair, Owen. I’m sorry.’

It was Owen’s turn to drag his jaw back into place. After a moment he managed to gather his thoughts, saying, ‘you don’t need to apologise. I know you mean well.’

‘Good.’ Barry was smiling, that Owen was sure of. ‘So, what are you going to do now?’

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose again. ‘I’m just going to keep treating her like a professional. I respect her, and that respect is and should always be the basis of our relationship – our friendship.’

‘A very ‘onourable choice,’ Barry said. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you.’  

_And theeerrre’s Barry_.

‘Again, I really appreciate the support.’ Still, he smirked. ‘Thanks for the talk, Barry. I owe you.’

His friend chuckled heartily. ‘I’d agree with you, but you’re the one paying for the call.’

Owen couldn’t fight the smirk. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

‘And I guess I’ll see you in a few days. You still living in that one bedroom place?’

‘It’s working for me.’

‘Well, you can take the couch while I recover from my jetlag.’

‘Can I now?’

‘Yes. One night on that lumpy dumpster of a futon was enough. I’ll never sleep there again.’

They said their goodbyes. Owen set the phone beside him and folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Talking to Barry had helped clear his thoughts, allowing him to shake off the lingering feelings of jealousy.

He decided he needed to get to work. He would spend the week refocusing his mind, would dive into his research. The distraction would do him good, as would the preparation. When the next expedition began – it was now only ten days away – he would be ready to work with Elizaveta without the baggage his attraction had so far forced him to carry or, at the very least, he wouldn’t allow it to harm his and Elizaveta’s friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this story, please leave kudos or a comment.
> 
> <3 Roksy


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